


since i memorized your face

by leetlebird



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 50 First Dates Fusion, Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-07-31 11:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20114563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetlebird/pseuds/leetlebird
Summary: Kent doesn't know how to date someone with anterograde amnesia, but if Adam Sandler did it, it can't be that hard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh hey. this was a strange one to write for my first Kent/Rans fic, I realized after like 20k words into the first draft, but maybe I'll write something more canon-compliant another time???
> 
> when I was researching anterograde amnesia, I saw that it's not unheard of for people to eventually regain their ability to access long-term memories again. so while that's actually a semi-realistic ending, I still didn't want to go quite that far, since it would feel a little cheap in terms of story. that being said, people with this form of amnesia can adapt and heal in ways not really represented in 50 First Dates, which I think you'll notice reflected here. pretty much any form of adapting/learning you see from Ransom in this fic is something I read about with real people.
> 
> title from Mr. Sufjan Stevens. playlist for this bad boy [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3gykg6kHthVRYCDhkQBTdi).

Maybe it was just because he’d spent his formative years watching Gilmore Girls, but Kent had always imagined that living in a small New England town would be kind of magical. That was part of the reason he’d taken the job as head accountant for a wealthy law firm in Little Haven, Connecticut, population eight hundred and eighty-nine. 

Well, eight hundred and ninety, now that he was here. And maybe Little Haven did have a lovable bunch of charming, warm-hearted locals who would make him feel at home soon, but Kent hadn’t found them yet. All he’d seen was a bizarrely large number of antique jewelry stores, a movie theater with six screens, and a weirdly large number of tourists. 

He was starting work tomorrow, and he hadn’t really talked to anyone yet. It was hard to tell who was a tourist and who was a local, and he was kind of figuring that everything would be easier once he had a few coworkers to introduce him around. Like, Kent had always thought that he was a social butterfly, the type of guy who could hold a room’s attention anywhere, making friends and influencing people wherever he went. But that was surprisingly hard to do when he didn’t know a single soul. Maybe his charisma needed his bros around to actually work.

If common sense, his friends’ advice, and network television were to be believed, though, the best way to connect with people was to leave the house, preferably by becoming a regular at some kind of coffee shop or diner. 

Kent picked coffee shop. There was one two blocks away from his new house, kind of predictably named _The Daily Grind_, and he’d walked there every day of the three days he’d been in town. So far, no friends. But the coffee was good.

When Kent walked in today, it was slower than the other times Kent had been here. He’d been holding out hope that today was the day he’d make an actual connection in the town, but everyone in here looked like tourists -- a guy in a Samwell hoodie and a cheesy Little Haven hat, a family with way too many fanny packs between them, and an older couple with fancy cameras dangling around their necks and accents that didn’t sound American.

Kent was happy Little Haven had a surprisingly profitable tourist economy, mostly due to the picturesque scenery and creepy bed and breakfast scene. Money coming into his new hometown was good, he knew that. But tourists weren’t exactly going to replace the friends he’d left behind in Vegas.

“What can I get for you, dear?” the barista asked. Her name was Sophia, she was probably in her sixties, and Kent had yet to talk to her about anything beyond his order. Maybe the problem was him.

“Uh,” he said. “A cortado. Please. Medium.”

He didn’t really know what that was, but he had somehow gotten attached to the idea of working his way through this place’s whole coffee menu, and that was the next one on the list. Sophia probably thought he was kind of a weirdo, but he could live with that.

Kent settled at a round two-person table close to the windows. His resolution for the day was to stay at the table until he was finished with his drink. That would be a first -- he’d gotten too self-conscious sitting by himself the other days and had left after just a few minutes. It was a weird feeling, one he wasn’t used to, but it turned out that Kent had a lot of practice being the center of attention with his friends but pretty much zero practice being in public by himself.

He felt it already, though, that uncomfortable tension across his shoulders. Feeling like someone was staring at him, even though nobody was even sitting behind him. 

“Got it ready for you, Kent,” Sophia called, and when Kent came back to his table, drink in hand, the guy in the Samwell hoodie had moved four tables over.

He was right next to Kent’s table. Grinning at him. 

His eyes were -- and his smile -- Kent’s whole body felt it, light and fizzy like soda. Kent can tell at a glance that this guy is built, like, super strong, and he very well might have the best bone structure Kent has ever seen in his life. Kent thanked the universe that he was wearing jeans that made him look hot today. 

“Hey,” the guy said. He was leaning forward, elbows on the table, and looking at Kent like he was something on the menu.

Kent liked being looked at like that. A lot. He felt blood rushing to his face, looked down at the table, and tried to act maybe a little bit normal. “Hi. Uh --” He didn’t know what else to say. “What is it?” Jesus fucking Christ.

The guy laughed. Goddammit, that was amazing. “Nothing, dude,” the guy said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Kent said. He was very aware of how dumb he sounded, but this time he knew he was blushing, and he absolutely couldn’t stop. This was definitely one of those moments that Troy would chirp him for if he were here -- “How are you the biggest bro I’ve ever met and simultaneously a girl in, like, a Jane Eyre novel or whatever” -- but Kent didn’t know how to respond to sexy guys flirting with him outside of clubs and bars. He felt like an elephant on its hind legs or whatever. “You want to talk to me, huh?”

“Yeah,” the guy said. “I’m Justin, by the way. It looked like you were by yourself, and I figured I should change that. That okay?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Kent said. His face still felt embarrassing. “Yeah. Like, at my table? Sure.” He needed to fucking chill already. “I’m Kent.”

Justin laughed again, but he moved to sit by Kent. So he at least wasn’t totally weirded out by Kent’s personality thing. “You always blush like that?” he asked, so blunt that Kent felt himself flush harder. “Aw shit, my bad. Too much. You’re really cute, though, is what I’m saying.”

Kent touched the side of his coffee cup. The heat was grounding. “How are you this bad at flirting when you’re that hot?”

Justin’s smile somehow got even more gorgeous. “Maybe you make me nervous. You said your name’s Kent, right? Do you play hockey? You seem like you play hockey.”

“How did you --?” Kent couldn’t help but laugh. He liked the way Justin’s face changed then, like Kent’s laugh did something to him. “Yeah. All through college. How did you know?” He looked down, in case he was wearing one of his hockey shirts without realizing it, but that wasn’t it.

“I dunno, dude, I can just sniff it out,” Justin said. His face already looked different to Kent, less an intimidating glow of perfection and more like a real person, someone Kent could connect with. “There a good hockey scene here?”

The weird Little Haven hat the guy was wearing seemed like an ironic tourist thing, but Kent hoped for the best and asked anyway. “Do you live in town?”

Justin paused. “Why, do you?” He broke off a chunk of the muffin he was eating and offered it to Kent. “Here, this is good. Damn, you’re making me reconsider my stance on what it would be like to live in a small town. Like, if all the guys here look like you…. No, dude, I’m just on vacation. It’s cool here, just not really busy enough for me, you know?” He smiled at Kent. “But I’m here a couple more days. If you want to hang out.”

Kent felt a flutter in his stomach. Jesus, he was getting butterflies. He reached out and started fiddling with his coffee cup to give himself something to do. “Yeah, I -- yeah. That would be cool.” 

Justin pressed his knee against Kent’s, the contact brief and warm and perfect, and Kent reacted by spilling his coffee all over the table. 

“Fuck, oh my god, sorry, sorry, shit,” Kent blurted out. He didn’t have any napkins. Justin had a few, and he laid them on the worst section of the puddle. “Oh my god. Did any get on you?” Kent was pretty sure it hadn’t, which was basically the only thing about this that didn’t suck, but _god._ He was absolutely going to die alone.

“It’s okay,” Justin said. “Are you okay?” He waited until Kent nodded. “Cool, I’mma go get more napkins. Don’t run away.” 

Kent didn’t run away. He let Justin be all chivalrous and clean the mess up himself, which was kind of torture, and by the time Justin was done Kent knew he was blushing again. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said when Justin grinned at him, and he fanned his face. “You still want to meet up again, or did I ruin it?”

“Aw, you didn’t ruin anything,” Justin said. He wrapped one arm around Kent’s shoulders, comforting but also one hundred percent because he was using the moment as an excuse to get his hands on Kent, at least Kent was pretty sure. “Trust me, I’m excited to see you again. How about we meet at the movie theater tomorrow, six-thirty? There’s gotta be something playing, or maybe we’ll go somewhere else if nothing sounds good. I’m here with a friend, he’d totally give us some privacy if we need it.”

“Oh, that’s, yeah.” Kent was doing great. He felt Justin’s fingertips curl against his shoulders for a moment, and his heart jumped like they were in the fucking Notebook or something. Wow. “I can do that. Cool.”

“‘Swawesome,” Justin said. “Okay, don’t look at me like that, it’s a Samwell thing. My old school. Where did --” He was interrupted by someone knocking on the coffee shop’s window from the sidewalk outside. Justin glanced over, then flinched when he saw a super tall blond dude with glasses glaring at him. “Damn, my best bro is being majorly clingy. I practically had to pull a Mission Impossible escape just to come in here on my own. I gotta go, Kent, but six-thirty tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Kent felt cold and weirdly empty when Justin moved his arm away, because he was ridiculous. “That’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, dude, I don’t wanna just bolt on you like this. But he’s been alone for, like, twenty minutes, so he’s probably an emotional wreck.” Justin got up and started backing toward the door. “And don’t worry! He really will give us privacy tomorrow! Bye, Kent!”

And Kent was alone at his table again, blushing harder than ever, his whole drink gone without ever getting the chance to taste it, and knowing with absolute certainty that every person in the room was staring at him.

It was the happiest he’d been since he moved here.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**Wake up!**

Hey Rans. It’s me, you. No, you didn’t get really drunk. You have a TBI from a car accident on August 16, 2019. You are experiencing anterograde amnesia, so your short term memory only lasts for one day at a time now. This has been ongoing since the accident, but you’re doing good. You can look through the folders in your drive here for info about your day-to-day stuff, or you can talk to Holtzy in person (roommates for life) or call Mom, Dad, or Catherine if you have questions or just want to talk. You’re living in Little Haven with Holster. The population is less than 900, which means everyone around here knows your situation and will help you out if you get confused. Plus, the doctor said a quiet environment where you can just focus on getting better is ideal. It’s pretty decent. 

Today, you have music lessons at 10:45 (I know right??? But it helps your brain), you’re getting lunch at Cafe Espana at 12:30, and you promised Holtzy you’d watch his dumb show at some point in the evening. 

Look around your files as much as you want -- whatever you want, there’s probably a file on it -- but you’re honestly doing fine. For real. You have stuff to do and people to hang out with, so don’t take too long. Go live your life!!!

(Also, text Holtzy for a hug if you’re sad and I guarantee he’ll be here in under forty seconds. I’ve got the spreadsheet to prove it.)

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Kent’s first day at work was a Monday, and it was probably the first time he’d ever been excited for a normal Monday morning. He was so sick of sitting around with no one to talk to, and the promise of a date later that day -- even with someone who would be leaving town soon -- was more than enough on its own to get him out of bed. 

Still, it was weird to immediately get a reminder that small-town living would be drastically different from what he was used to. It took, like, a full hour just to get through one introduction because the two co-workers started talking about the health of their apple trees or something. And Kent was all about the social aspect of work, especially on his first day meeting everyone, but he couldn’t quite push down the feeling that he was supposed to be achieving a data-driven goal instead.

When things finally settled down and Kent thought he could be alone in his new office at last, a lawyer dude named Sean or Sam or something like that stuck his head in the door. “Hey, Parson, you got a second? Sophia over at the Daily Grind mentioned you met a guy there.”

Kent hoped this place had a good HR department. “Yeah,” he said shortly. 

“No easy to say this,” the man said, stepping in and settling down in a chair, which was pretty much the opposite of what Kent wanted. “That guy is Justin Oluransi. He’s lived here about a year. Has amnesia, forgets what happened the day before as soon as he wakes up. He’s a good guy, though, does a good job staying on top of things even with his condition. Sophia said you caught him on one of his days off.” 

Kent stared at him. Was this a joke? Some kind of hazing thing? Did lawyers do that? 

“But hey, if you really hit it off with him, he’s always looking to hook up on Friday nights. Check the bar over by the movie theater if you’re interested, he’ll be there.”

Kent swallowed. This didn’t really seem like a joke. “Oh.”

The man grinned. “I know, right? Heavy. But don’t worry about it. Justin takes a day off every once in awhile, just to give himself a break from dealing with all the amnesia shit for a day. He doesn’t write anything down from those days, though, so if you had plans to see him again you’re probably the only one who knows about it. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.” 

“Okay.” Kent tried to keep a calm and professional demeanor. “Like, for real?”

“Yeah, really. You can look it up, it’s a whole news story. But shit, this is a lot to take in. I’ll get out of your hair. Welcome to the office, man, I promise not to deliver crushing news about any other guys around here you hit it off with. So yeah, take it easy, keep on settling in.” The guy, Sean or Sam or whoever, let himself out. 

Kent sat with that for a few minutes, cycling through panic and suspicion and embarrassment and way too many other emotions. Finally, he took out his phone and slowly typed in Justin’s name. Google corrected him when he spelled it wrong, and the first couple news stories that popped up erased any hope he had that his coworker was pulling a really messed up prank. 

He didn’t want to go to a bar on a Friday night to hook up. He didn’t want to have sex with Justin just to be forgotten the next day.

But he did want to see Justin again. 

Which -- was an issue to resolve at a later date. He had already made a weird impression, probably, by getting all cozy with Justin without knowing about his amnesia. Kent didn’t know how to handle most issues in his romantic life, and this one was even more confusing than normal. 

But he did know how to be the best at his job. That had always come easily. 

He got started on his paperwork.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


His second day at work, a few of the other people at the office -- two in accounting, and the one and only PR worker -- offered to take him out for drinks after work. Kent suggested coffee instead, and was relieved when they didn’t ask questions.

There was a lot that he was relieved about, honestly. His co-workers were nice, friendly, and definitely receptive to Kent’s sense of humor. He was enjoying the work, and it was fun to have a challenge when things differed from how things were done at his old office. And while news had definitely spread about his uninformed flirtation with Justin Oluransi, no one had given him a hard time about it.

Kent didn’t exactly have any reason to believe there were more than two or three other guys who swung his way in Little Haven, but that was kind of a relief too. After his last relationship had imploded, he was more than willing to take a break from dating.

After they secured a table and collected their coffee orders, Kent and his co-workers visited with each other for about thirty minutes, long enough for Kent to know way more about the office gossip than he ever would have learned in a whole year just by showing up for work every day. In the middle of a particularly juicy story, Kent saw a familiar face enter the coffee shop. 

“Oh, hey, didn’t you have a little thing with him here this past weekend?” Marie asked.

“We _talked,_” Kent mumbled, even if the idea of having a “thing” with Justin made him feel embarrassingly tingly. “It was his day off.”

The others looked at each other. 

“I think I gotta let my dog out,” Sean said. “Have fun!”

They waved goodbye. Justin was ordering at the counter. Kent tried not to check him out from behind, but it was tempting as hell. 

“I probably should head out too,” Marie said. “I can’t miss yoga two weeks in a row. Hey, come here.” She did something to fix Kent’s hair, then stood up and grabbed her drink. “You look great. Bye! Bye, Sarah!”

“Okay, I’m going too. Get his number,” Sarah said.

“Huh?” Kent said, but they were already standing up, pushing in their chairs, and waving goodbye. “Oh. Are you for real?” 

Sarah waved again, and they disappeared out the door.

Kent didn’t know what they expected to happen. It’s not like Justin would recognize him and come over to say hi.

“Hi,” Justin said. Kent jumped. “What are you drinking? That looks so good.”

“Con --” Kent peered up at the menu again. “Con panna. It’s like an espresso? Or it is an espresso? I don’t know, I just ordered it.”

Justin laughed, practically a giggle, like the sound was surprised out of him without his permission. “That’s awesome. Sorry, I don’t know if we’ve met. What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m Kent.” Jesus, it wasn’t a hard question. Kent felt flustered all over again, but this time he could at least try not to spill his drink. “Yeah, I just met you the one time. This Sunday? Right here, actually.”

“Oh, okay. I guess I didn’t write anything down, then.” Now Justin looked flustered. Kent abruptly felt guilty, even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Was it good? Like, Sunday?”

Kent debated lying, but that would probably be unethical. “I spilled my coffee on you. I mean -- that’s not the only thing that --” 

Justin was laughing, and before he knew it Kent was laughing too. “I feel like I should sit,” Justin said. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah.” Kent didn’t know what it meant that this was unfolding kind of like it had on Sunday, only better. He had this weird urge to look over at Sophia, the barista, like, _are you seeing this?_ “Did you already get something to drink?” 

Justin looked comically guilty. “Uh, no. I was in the middle of ordering, but I wanted to say hi first. But -- stop laughing at me! -- I’ve been meeting all these people for the first time, but, like, _not_ the first time, and I was curious if I actually knew you. And your drink looked really good.” 

Kent figured it was safe to take a drink now. He wiped his mouth. “You can order. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.” 

“Please,” Justin said, and Kent was still smiling when Justin got up and walked away. He definitely could see a few locals looking, their expressions a mix of amused and concerned and unreadable, but Kent was trying not to worry about that. 

By the time Justin came back -- and he came back, Kent thought with a little thrill, he didn’t go back to a different table -- he was carrying an iced coffee and somehow managed to look even more handsome than before. “Hey,” Kent said. He didn’t know where he was going with this, but he liked the look on Justin’s face when he was paying attention to Kent. “Do you know if there’s some kind of hockey team around here? Like a club or something?” 

They’d bonded over hockey before, or at least they’d started to. Kent didn’t want to spend too much time imagining Justin in hockey pads, mostly because he didn’t want to get all starry-eyed and weird in the middle of the Daily Grind. “Nah,” Justin said, and there went Kent’s dreams. “My friend -- my roommate -- was telling me this morning that he wants to play, but there’s not really a good facility nearby. Even the high school kids here have to pay a bunch of money and get bussed out if they want to play.” 

“Bummer,” Kent said. “How far out is it? It’d be nice to play every once in a while, you know?” He watched as Justin drained his iced coffee. “You play, right? Used to?”

“Yeah.” Justin smiled. “Started in fourth grade. Played all through college, then two years in the AHL.”

“Woah,” Kent said. He felt like he was in the presence of royalty or something, even if it wasn’t the NHL. Just playing professionally was pretty amazing. “That’s so awesome. I only played through college. Just doing boring shit now, finances and accounting crap.”

Justin laughed. “Hey, money shit’s not boring. I should pick your brain sometime -- now that I’m, like, re-doing my life every day, it’s kind of hard to have an income.” At the look on Kent’s face, he shook his head. “No, it’s actually okay. My bro’s here working remotely for this fancy-ass company, and he keeps me in the extravagant lifestyle to which I’m accustomed or whatever.” 

“Oh,” Kent said. “Yeah, based on that American Eagle shirt, you clearly have expensive taste.” Justin laughed, and Kent was struck all over again by how much loved that sound. “But I was wondering, do you think you’d be interested in doing a hockey club type of thing if I ever organized it? Just for fun.”

“You know, I actually had to decide to stay away from hockey,” Justin said. “I already have so much that’s messed up in my brain, I need to stay clear of all those opportunities to do any worse damage.”

Kent gripped the edge of the table, as subtle as he could. “Oh, that makes sense. And, like, sorry if that’s not fun to talk about. Hockey’s so fucking dangerous, man.” 

“I know, oh my god. But it’s cool, dude. I love to play, and if you ever get a group together you gotta make sure my buddy Holster’s in there. Like, he would --” Justin’s phone buzzed. “Shit, I have so many reminders on this thing. Like, obviously. Sorry, Kent, I have to go Skype my doctor. Do you think I’ll see you here again?”

It was one step away from _Come here often,_ Kent thought as Justin got up from the table. He couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah. I’m here every morning and afternoon.” That wasn’t true, technically, but it would be now. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.” Justin smiled down at Kent from where he was standing. “I’ll write it down this time.”

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Everything was new. The town, his car, Holster’s job, the team that was defending the Cup. Ransom didn’t know why it was that last one that was throwing him off more than anything else. It felt like it should be harder to ease into this new life, but it wasn’t bad so far. He’d only had three panic attacks today, which seemed extremely reasonable for this kind of thing. It was just -- everything was new. 

Ransom was still getting used to his new house. There was ivy growing on two of the outer walls, a huge garden along the side that apparently was kept up by _him_, and the whole thing basically looked like the perfect home for a seventy-year old white grandmother.

But he lived here now. And Holster was here too, so it wasn’t that bad. And Ransom wasn’t going to admit it out loud, at least not today, but he actually kind of liked the garden. 

“‘Sup, dude,” he said when he entered the kitchen. It was weird that Holster was apparently always home, but that was a perk of working remotely. Holtzy was arranging frozen mini-corn dogs on a baking tray like the culinary wizard he was. “Hey, did you know there’s a new guy in town?”

Ransom might have had a conversation with Veronica Bugle, who according to his notes was a friendly, gossipy type of woman, on his way back. He might have steered the conversation toward a certain person to see exactly what he could learn. 

Holster immediately straightened up. His face had _protective mode_ written all over it. “Name? Age? Occupation? Does he seem like he’ll have your back?”

“Dude,” Ransom said. “Chill. Do we have any coffee?” He’d already had coffee today, but he could never really have too much.

Holster shook his head. “No, but I’ll have some if you brew it.”

Ransom tried out his best puppy-dog eyes, and Holster started brewing coffee.

“His name is Kent,” Ransom said once the coffee maker was making nice bubbly sounds. “I think he’s around our age, but I didn’t ask. He works over at that law firm. Giles & Giblets?”

“Giles & Giffords,” Holster corrected patiently. “Have you seen him around yet? I haven’t heard anything about it. God, I’m gonna have to track him down and make sure he isn’t going to fuck up the good situation you’ve got going here.”

Ransom folded his arms. “Holtzy.”

“I don’t like new people.” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking noticing.” Ransom thought Holster looked kind of stressed, like for real, so he walked over and wrapped him up in a big hug. “I met him today. And Sunday, apparently, but obviously I don’t remember that. Or, like, didn’t take notes. But he seems cool. He plays hockey. He likes coffee. He’s --” Ransom cut himself off; Holster probably didn’t care what color hair Kent had. “Yeah, he’s cool.”

Holster stared at him. “One minute.” He loaded the baking tray into the oven, checked the temperature, and then stared deep into Ransom’s soul. “Holy fuck, you want to marry him.”

“I -- are you on crack?” Ransom briefly considered asking if Holster had also suffered a traumatic brain injury, but he didn’t think Holster would find that funny. “I literally just talked to him over at that little coffee shop. He said he wants to put together a hockey group to bus over to that one place, maybe, and I said he should ask you. That’s it.” 

Holster grinned. At least he wasn’t still on his _I don’t like new people_ kick, Ransom thought gloomily, but this was almost worse. “Kent what?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask.” Proof that he wasn’t obsessed or whatever dumb shit Holster was going for. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter, he’ll be Kent Oluransi soon enough.”

“Holster, I’ll bury your body in the garden. Be quiet.”

Holtzy laughed, so huge and loud that Ransom practically had to brace himself against it. “No, dude, I just haven’t seen you get so weird about someone in a long time. You’ve got that look in your eye.”

“I mean, yeah, he was cute.” Ransom didn’t see any reason to lie about that. “But I like hooking up. You know, having fun. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

He had never spent a lot of time thinking about marriage or, like, committed relationships in general even back when his brain let him string all his days together. That kind of lifestyle didn’t sound awesome to him. It sounded even less awesome now, when he was more concerned with figuring out how to survive in the possible event that his family and Holster couldn’t take care of him anymore. Anyway, trying to date someone he hadn’t already known before the accident would lead to a bunch of confusing shit every time he woke up and didn’t know the person he was supposedly in love with, so it wasn’t even worth thinking about. 

“Just remember that you’re not allowed to elope,” Holster said. “I want to be the flower girl or something.” 

“Hilarious.” Ransom’s phone lit up with an incoming call, saving him from this conversation and, apparently, from having to dash Holster’s hopes of someday attending Ransom’s wedding. “Doc calling, bro. Save me a couple corn dogs.”

“Just tell me I’d be a cute flower girl.”

Ransom imagined it for a second. “You’d be hideous. Please promise you’ll do it.”

Holster’s face lit up with evil glee. “Oh, that I’ll do it when you marry this Kent person? You want me to promise that?”

Shit. Ransom knew when he’d been beat. “Whatever, bro. Ask me about it tomorrow.”

Holster’s smile fell, and Ransom felt bad. Just a little.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Kent was buying multivitamins and a new water bottle when he turned around and saw Justin in another aisle. 

His first instinct was to hide, because that was always his first instinct around tall, gorgeous men who made him feel nervous. His second instinct was to yell a greeting, because you can’t take the bro out of the hockey player, but he remembered just in time that Justin might not actually know who he was today.

He opted for more of a chill approach, wandering over to where Justin was browsing -- gardening supplies? That was unexpected, and kind of awesome. “Hey, Justin. I don’t know if you -- I’m Kent. We met a couple times? Thought I’d say hi.” 

“Kent!” Justin’s face lit up. Maybe. Kent still felt giddy about it. “Damn, I’m so glad you came over here. I need to take your picture. Not, like, in a creepy way, but I take notes on everyone who lives here, and it’s kind of pointless if I don’t have a photo so I can recognize you if I see you around, you know?”

Kent immediately gave himself a mental once-over. This was not his ideal picture day. “Sure, like -- right now?” He was pretty sure he looked super tired.

“Chyea.” Justin held up his phone. “If that’s okay? I mean --”

Kent was being an idiot. Of course it was okay, if Justin needed it to, like, navigate life. “For sure, man. Cheese.”

Justin laughed quietly and took a quick picture. “Seriously, thanks so much. Aw, look how photogenic you are.” He showed Kent the photo, which somehow wasn’t completely atrocious. “Hey, can I give you my buddy’s contact info? He totally would be down for a hockey group, plus it’s, like, a really small town. You should start getting connected with the fun people around here.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure. Here, I’ll give you my number.” Kent felt ridiculously, outrageously happy as he gave Justin his number. This didn’t have to mean -- whatever. He was happy. “You can send him mine, too. It’d be awesome to get to know a few more people here.” 

“Already done.” Justin stuck his phone back in his pocket. “Fair warning, he’s going to spam you. He’s like that sometimes. Well, all the time.”

Like a confirmation, Kent’s phone buzzed in his hand. “Well, shit.” He read the text. “He wants me to come over to your house tonight. For the welcome wagon. Should I be scared?”

Justin grinned. “Hell yeah. You’d better be able to hold your liquor, because the welcome wagon is pretty much just stocked with booze.” 

Kent sucked his cheeks in. He never could quite get rid of that tell. “Oh. Ha. We’ll see.” 

“I mean, you don’t have to --”

“I’ll be there,” Kent jumped in. “I mean, if that’s okay. Your friend’s the one who invited me, I don’t know if, like --”

Justin touched his back, brief and soft. “You totally should. Apparently it’s on my schedule to have a quiet night in tonight, so if you join us I won’t be bored out of my mind. Holster’s gonna demand to pick the movie, though. Hope you like shitty rom-coms.”

Kent loved them. “Jesus. Okay. Yeah, I can make it. He said maybe seven? That sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” Justin’s answering grin was blindingly white. Kent tried not to stare. “I gotta go meet someone at the beach. Apparently we’re friends, I dunno. I’ll see you tonight, though?”

“Yeah.” Kent didn’t know what he was getting into, but his whole body felt jittery. “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

He watched Justin walk away. It actually hurt, actually made him want to chase after. _Jesus,_ he thought. _Jesus._


	2. Chapter 2

Kent felt nervous walking up the path to Justin’s front door, but he always felt shy and weird and nervous when he was around guys he liked. Underneath that was excitement. He didn’t know how to feel optimistic about getting to know Justin better -- Kent was, as a rule, a glass half-empty kind of guy when it came to dating -- but he sure as hell felt optimistic about meeting Holster. He was ready for some bro time.

“Kent!” The front door opened before Kent could make it far enough to knock. A huge blond man was waving at him. “Hey, dude! Come in!” 

And Kent just -- relaxed. This was easy. Hockey bros were easy. “‘Sup, man,” he said. He almost missed Holster’s handshake, just because he wasn’t expecting it, but he recovered in time. “Thanks for the invite. We inside?”

Holster grinned. “Yeah, come in. Ransom’s got a serious snack spread happening in the living room. I dunno what you like to drink, but whatever it is, we’ve got you covered. Yeah, shoes off is fine. Oh, fuck, you brought donuts, I think I love you.” 

“Yeah, take as many as you want.” This would be fine. Kent thought this would probably be fine. “I don’t really drink much these days, but tea or water or whatever would be good.” Sometimes it wasn’t fine, and people were weird about it.

“Sure, dude, we have literally too many beverages to count. Fuck, you need to hold these or they’ll be gone by the time we get to the living room. Water, tea, coffee, lemonade, like four different kinds of soda. Get whatever you want, bro. You don’t mind if we drink, do you? Or, like, we don’t have to.” 

Kent followed Holster into the living room, and there was Justin. And, like, shit. Justin was still so hot, and now he looked so proud of the snack assortment on the coffee table that it was too cute to handle, and Kent could feel himself clamming up from how nervous this whole thing made him. “No, do what you’d normally do. Um. Hi.”

“Hey! Donuts?” 

Holster set the box down on the couch; there wasn’t really room on the table. “Rans, this is some above and beyond shit. You gotta get something from the garden.”

Justin stared at him for a second. “Oh, yeah. We have a garden! Does it have, like, food? I thought it was just flowers or whatever.”

“Yes, Justin, it has food. You planted a billion vegetables in it, let’s get some for your new _friend._”

The emphasis on _friend_ made Kent’s stomach clench. Just a little. He didn’t know -- “Cool, I gotta see this.” 

“I garden,” Justin said. 

“Yeah,” Kent said. 

Holster showed them the part of the garden with veggies. It was a ridiculously huge garden, and Kent felt like he might actually have big cartoon heart eyes for Justin at this point. He was always so obvious about this kind of thing -- if there was just one reason Kent might feel lucky all his friends were on the other side of the country, it’d be that they wouldn’t be able to roast him later for being such a loser over a guy he’d just met.

“Goddamn,” Justin said. “I’m so good at growing tomatoes.”

Kent didn’t know what to say; Holster just laughed. It was weird, thinking about what it would be like to learn new things about yourself over and over again. “Yeah,” he said, finally.

They sort of watched the beginning of some movie on Netflix that Holster liked, but Ransom kept starting up conversation and Holster kept making fun of his own movie, so they turned it off and just played board games instead. It was the kind of lame nerdy shit Kent loved. The food was good, the tea was alright, and Holster and Justin both drank with enough moderation that it didn’t feel weird for Kent to not be drinking with them. 

The only thing was -- Holster was obviously very protective of Justin. Ransom. Kent didn’t know what to call him. Holster was protective, and Kent was starting to feel more and more creepy about the raging crush he had. Like, it would probably be weird and scary for Ransom -- Justin -- to date a guy he didn’t remember, so what was Kent doing even imagining it? That wasn’t what he’d been invited over here for. He was here to be a bro. 

It was hard to be a bro on a tiny floral couch that smelled like a grandmother’s house. There wasn’t enough _room._ Justin’s knee kept falling against Kent’s leg, warm and super distracting, and their hands kept touching when they both reached for M&M’s at the same time. 

Kent ended up just getting up to use the bathroom, then squeezing in on Holster’s other side when he came back. “What’s the deal with this town and not having any good ice?” he asked, and was rewarded with a long stream of like-minded cursing. 

He bowed out around eleven so he could be up for work. Justin -- Ransom -- walked him to the door while Holster cleaned up. 

“This was fun,” Justin said. Ransom. “We gotta do it again soon. Text me when you’re free, dude, okay?”

“Definitely. Thanks for having me, Ju-- dammit. Justin? Ransom? What should I call you, man?”

“I’m fine with either, but hey, let’s go with Ransom.” Ransom grinned at him, and Kent ignored the shiver that went through his core. “That’s what my friends call me. Drive safe, Kent.”

Kent tried not to let his face show what it did to him, hearing his name in Ransom’s mouth. He left, and he tried not to be sad thinking about how his face would mean nothing to Ransom if they bumped into each other the next day.

“Don’t worry, I thought about you the whole time,” he told Kit when he got home. She rolled over and let him pet her tummy.

So, yeah. Life in Little Haven was okay.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Apparently, Ransom had a bedtime now. He would complain, but he could already feel how his mind was getting fuzzy, and he still had an hour left to go.

“What’cha writing about?” Holster asked. He was next to Ransom on the couch, playing video games but not really playing. He leaned over to read over Ransom’s shoulder. “New friend?”

And, yeah. Ransom was making a quick note in his acquaintance folder. He’d already loaded up the picture of Kent from his phone and was in the middle of adding it to Kent’s file. “Yep.”

_Doesn’t drink alcohol, or at least avoids it,_ he typed. _Early to bed type. Gets along great with Holster. Sorta quiet with me, but nice. Really liked the tomatoes I grew._

“Hell yeah, he did,” Holster said. “He’d eat all your tomatoes.”

There was also a note in Kent’s file that apparently Holster thought they had a flirty thing going on between them. And, like, Kent was cute, but there hadn’t seemed to be much flirting going on today. “You guys should hang out again, bro. The two of you seemed to majorly click.” 

Holster gave him a curious look. “Yeah, we had fun. He for sure likes you more, though.” 

Ransom carefully kept his eyes on his phone screen. “You think? IDK, man, he seemed super quiet around me. Like, he’d rather talk to you.”

“Sure, but that’s because he looks at you like you’re the Beatles and he’s one of those 60’s girls who’s about to faint.”

“Huh?”

“Bro, he’s got a huge crush on you. Keep up.”

Ransom looked down at Kent’s photo. He looked nervous there, a little tense, but he had beautiful eyes. Kind of sweet. “Maybe. I don’t know what I think about that whole thing, though.”

Holster leaned against Ransom’s shoulder. Silent, solid, inviting more.

“He’s really fucking cute, though, oh my god.”

Holster laughed, a loud bark that rattled Ransom’s eardrum. “There you go. Hey, think about texting him before you go to bed. If you wanna say thanks for coming over, or that it was fun or whatever, it’ll mean more if you send it today.”

“Yeah.” Holster was right. Ransom waved him off, kept adding to Kent’s file while Holster resumed playing his game. 

He didn’t text Kent before heading up to bed, but he hadn’t really planned to. It was hard to think about shit like that when he was terrified of falling asleep. 

“Holtzy?” he finally called, despite all his best attempts to keep this to himself. He didn’t know if Holster would even hear him, if his voice made it down the hall when it came out as more of a raspy croak than anything.

But Holster showed up in his doorway a few moments later. “If you scoot over, I’ll cuddle you till you fall asleep. Deal?”

Shit, Ransom probably made him do this a lot. “Sorry,” he said. “I just --”

“You’ll still be you in the morning,” Holster promised. “But I’ll stay.”

Ransom didn’t really see how he could still be him when nothing that made him who he was today would be there anymore, but he didn’t have the energy to go there right now. “All night?” he said instead, batting his eyelashes.

“Nah,” Holster said. “Till you fall asleep. Then I’m out of here.”

They both cracked up, then, and Ransom settled against Holster’s side before Holster could spot the tears in his eyes.

“I gotcha, bro,” Holster said quietly, because he always knew.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


The thing about Little Haven, Kent soon discovered, was that it was a really small town. 

That could be charming, like when the grocery store clerk noticed Kent didn’t have the usual jar of pickles among his items and went to the storeroom to grab him one from a shipment that just came in. It could be annoying, like when Kent hardcore tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and heard about it from everyone at work the next day, even though none of them had been there to see it.

It could be exciting, and scary, and wonderful, like every time he saw Justin around town. 

The first time Kent saw Justin again was on the walking path by the lake. Justin smiled in a quick, polite acknowledgment, and Kent smiled back. He didn’t say anything, and he spent the rest of his walk agonizing over whether or not he should have.

The next time was later the same day, picking up a pizza for dinner. Justin walked into the pizza place, the bell dinging gently over his head, and immediately gave Kent a second look. 

“Hey,” Justin said. He sounded uncertain, but only a little. “Uh, Kent?”

Kent gave what was probably the most awkward wave in the world. “Yeah. Hi. Yeah, that’s me.”

Justin laughed, kindly, but like he couldn’t help it. “I saw you today earlier, right? You should have said hi. I hadn’t gone through all my files yet, so I didn’t recognize you.”

“Right.” Kent didn’t know if it meant something that Justin was able to recognize him after the fact, that their brief interaction while walking made that much of an impression, or if Justin just had a really good memory during the day while he could still access it. “Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself again, or what I should say. Next time I totally will, though. So you’re getting pizza for dinner, too?”

“It’s Holster’s night to cook,” Justin said. “And he can’t. Thus, pizza.”

“It’s his night and he’s making you go get the food? Jeez.”

Justin was picking up an order with anchovies, olives, peppers, tomatoes, and sausage; Kent was picking up one with ham and pineapple. Their judgment was mutual and loud, and Kent went home with a smile on his face. 

He felt like he saw Justin everywhere after that, and both Holster and Justin kept inviting him over. He went to their place for dinner, to play video games, to watch shitty movies, to watch amazing movies that he couldn’t help but cry at, to play card games and board games.

He learned that Justin actually preferred to go by Ransom.

He learned that Ransom’s family was Nigerian, and Canadian, and sometimes he heard Ransom talking to them on the phone with such love and fondness and exasperation and respect that his heart felt funny.

He accepted that he was too far in his feelings to have any hope of pulling back, but he at least started to string together more than a couple coherent sentences in a row when they were talking.

And he had no idea what Ransom thought of him.

“You can always come out to the bar with us if you want,” Ransom offered one evening. That was one of Ransom’s routines, which pretty much never varied: he would go to the local bar on Friday nights, to drink and flirt and almost always go home with someone. “You don’t have to drink with us.” 

Kent was pretty sure Ransom wouldn’t still be hooking up all the time if he liked Kent the way Kent liked him, but everyone was different. Maybe Ransom would. “I kind of do want to try drinking again,” he heard himself say. Which was true, but he didn’t really know how to talk about it, so he wasn’t sure why he said it. “I mean. Maybe. But I don’t think I want to go to a bar.”

“Really?” Ransom’s face lit up for a moment before he got control over it. “That’s really cool, Kent. Like, if you change your mind and decide not to, that’s cool too, but it’s a good thing that you feel like you can try again, right?”

Kent was pretty sure his face was bright red. “Uh--”

“I mean, shit. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, I’m asking too many questions. Want me to go refill the popcorn?”

Kent could feel Ransom’s leg against his under the blanket. It was cozier to watch TV under a blanket. That was all that was happening. But he was Kent Parson, so he couldn’t help but feel a shivering closeness with it, something that tugged at his knees and made him feel like he was meant to be close to Ransom in every single way he could be. “Sure, if you can manage not to drown it in butter this time. Your taste in popcorn is nasty, dude.”

Ransom laughed and slid out from under the blanket. Kent wanted him back. 

“And --” Kent’s throat stopped working for a second. Ransom was waiting for him, quiet. “Yeah. It’s a good thing. Next time if you have some boxed wine, let’s have a glass.”

Ransom grinned. “We never have boxed wine. Are you telling me I need to buy some?”

Kent smiled, too. “I like boxed wine.”

“And I like extra buttery popcorn,” Ransom teased. Kent felt warm and happy, almost in a way that felt ridiculous, and even when Ransom came back with gross, drippy popcorn Kent couldn’t shake the feeling.

“Pretty good, huh?” Ransom said, pressing his knee into Kent’s under the blanket.

“Whatever, man,” Kent said, but he couldn’t get himself to stop smiling.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Kent got used to the fact that he didn’t see Ransom much on Sundays. Sometimes Ransom was taking a “day off”, a planned day where he never learned about his car accident and its repercussions; sometimes he was traveling the surrounding New England area with Holster. 

But on this Sunday morning, Ransom texted Kent a little after nine-thirty. _Wanna come over?_

_Yeah see you in like 20 min_, Kent sent back. He was an early riser, had been up since six-thirty. His hair was pretty much a lost cause today, but he messed around with it for a few more minutes before giving up and grabbing his keys.

He didn’t need to knock on the door, as it turned out, because Ransom was waiting in the yard. “Hey,” Kent said as he got out of his truck. “Nice gloves. You doing some gardening?”

Ransom smiled at him. The sun was in his eyes, shining behind Kent’s head, so he was squinting and holding one arm up to block the glare. “Yeah. You wanna help? Otherwise we can find something else to do.”

“No, that sounds great. I’d love to learn.” Kent followed Ransom around the side of the house. These things were so unpredictable, he thought. Ransom was always friendly, but sometimes he was friendly in a way that felt like he was going through the motions, like he didn’t know how to pretend to be friends with someone who he only knew through notes on his phone. Then, sometimes Ransom seemed so comfortable with him that it felt like they’d been friends for years, but that was only when they’d already been hanging out for a few hours.

It was rare that Ransom invited Kent over this early in the day. That he would even want to hang out with a stranger when he was still processing his new reality. Of all the different things he could be doing during the first few hours of this specific Sunday, he was spending time with Kent, and Kent at least knew to be grateful for that. 

“I got started earlier,” Ransom said when they were standing in front of the vegetable garden. His voice was low, quiet in a way that fit right into the surroundings. “I just planted some seeds. Those need to be watered, plus there’s some weeding to do. You up for that?”

Kent took the extra pair of gloves that Ransom offered, and he squatted next to Ransom while Ransom used a watering can to sprinkle water over the fresh seeds. 

“You have to be really gentle like this before the seeds take root,” Ransom explained, almost whispering. “Otherwise they could wash away.” He was close to Kent, squatting with him on the dirt. He smelled exactly like his garden did, like leaves and soil and sunshine. “Would you be super grossed out if I asked you to help me spread some manure?”

“No, that’s fine.” He’d pretty much assumed that taking care of a vegetable garden would be dirty work. “Where do you even get that?”

Ransom stared blankly ahead for a second. “Huh, I don’t know. I guess the gardening store? That makes sense. But I’m not sure. You know how it is.”

They spread the manure along the different rows, Ransom moving much more efficiently than Kent even though he couldn’t remember ever doing it before. “Muscle memory,” he explained. “I’m trying to learn a bunch of new skills and hobbies like this. I dunno if I believe it’ll actually help with my general memory retrieval issues, but my doctor said to. Plus, like, it’s still cool to be able to see evidence that my brain is storing new memories, even if I pretty much can’t access them anymore.”

“Yeah.” Kent finally finished his last row. “Man, this stuff stinks. But yeah, I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so comfortable around me this early in the day. That’s gotta be overwhelming for you.”

Ransom shrugged. “I guess it is, sometimes? But you felt familiar today. Maybe you won’t tomorrow, but I’m just living in today.”

“Man.” Kent stretched out a little; the sun made him kind of feel like a cat. “That’s deep.”

“I’m a deep person, bro.” Ransom grinned. “Now sit up unless you want me to tickle you, because right now it’s pretty much irresistible.” 

Kent sat up. “Message received. You ready to weed?” 

Ransom mostly did his weeding by hand, so Kent did too. They did the other half of the garden, where they hadn’t laid any manure, and it was pretty much pointless to talk while working. Sweat poured down Kent’s back, and he could see it dripping down from Ransom’s hairline as well. By the time they were done, Kent’s back hurt, his knees hurt, his fingers hurt despite the gloves he wore, and he was pretty sure he’d gotten at least a minor sunburn.

All of that was true. But he felt like something had shifted while he was kneeling in the dirt next to Ransom, like he had crossed over somewhere more intimate, more important. Now, they sprawled out on the porch, both of them stinky and tired. Ransom brought out some lemonade and they kicked back, staring at the sky. Still not really talking. 

Ransom looked at him, and his expression went fond like Kent had never seen before. 

Kent met his eyes. “We should do this again sometime.”

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


_My Drive → People → Little Haven → Important → **Kent Parson**_

Accountant for Giles & Giffords law firm. Super smart and good at his job, recruited from Las Vegas.

30 yrs old. 7/4/90. Do something nice for his 31st.

Cuter in real life than picture. If you can believe that.

Holster says he has a crush on me. 99% chance this is true, but we’re friends and it’s not weird. Text him and you’ll see that it’s really easy. Holster says Kent is my favorite person in Little Haven.

He’ll have a glass of wine once in awhile, but I think he used to be an alcoholic or something cause at first he was nervous about drinking. 

BE VERY NICE TO HIM!!!! He is great. Sometimes he’s shy, especially since he doesn’t know what to expect in terms of my processing of all this shit every day, so if you make an extra effort to be friendly and happy to see him, it helps a lot. 

Likes:  
Routines. Goes to the Daily Grind for coffee pretty much every day around five-thirty.  
Variety within routines, curiosity. (Ex: getting different drinks every day)  
Boxed wine!!! Reds are his favorite.  
Reality TV. Shh pretend you don’t know.  
Romance novels (just on audio?). SHHHHH PRETEND YOU DON’T KNOW. LIKE FOR REAL.  
Cleaning his house (can be tricked into cleaning mine)  
Gardening with me (can be tricked into being the one to spread manure)  
Cats. Obsessively. Has 2, Kitty and Purrsephone. (Pretend you don’t get the reference, it makes him grumpy.) Sometimes volunteers at humane society, but doesn’t always have time.  
Hockey! Played through college. Says he was okay, video footage suggests “really good”. RWF. Interested in starting club with Holster, but that’s their thing.  
Pineapples on pizza :(

Dislikes:  
Mad Men, Breaking Bad, The Wire. Pretty much any show other than reality TV that Holster tries to make him watch.   
Rap :( :( :(   
Flirting. Avoid flirting with him if you want him to be able to continue talking with you. (Also, just avoid it. I’m not going to try a serious thing with anyone I didn’t know before, and he needs something serious.)  
Traffic jams. He has literally no patience. You thought Holster had no chill????  
Interior decorating. Just shameful.  
Personal questions/talking about feelings

Family:  
Mom, Beth. Still in New York, where he was raised. HE LOVES HER. There’s a story about learning how to parallel park?? Get him to tell it.  
Sister, Riley. 24. Lives in D.C. and interns somewhere fancy, but not like politics or something. She’s really funny, at least according to how Kent tells it. They’re super close.  
Dad gone since childhood. Not sure.  
NEVER FORGET HIS CATS. Remember, Kitty and Purrsephone. Remember, you have NO idea who Persephone is.  
Was really close with his grandma (mom’s mom) before she died a few years back. Hasn’t mentioned any other extended family.

Conflict:  
None???? He’s been really adaptable and it’s always easy for us to get along.   
Nothing with Holster either. Holster gets frustrated when none of his high-brow shows make an impression, but they’re bros and get along great.

A 10/10 human. 

Next: Read through latest in Conversation Summaries if you have time, or at least randomly skim the Kent Notes doc for more fun stuff.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**Ransom** 10:26 A.M.   
Hi, apparently we’re buddies? And you have the day off today? Any chance you want to come over…. I’m bored lol.

**Kent** 10:28 A.M.  
Hey! Yeah, that sounds good. 

**Kent**10:28 A.M.  
And you can kick me out whenever you need to. I know you like to get a lot of stuff done on Fridays 

**Ransom** 10:31 A.M.  
Trueeee. Do you wanna maybe help me get some of that stuff done? *halo emoji*

**Kent** 10:32 A.M.  
What kind of stuff? *eyes emoji*

**Ransom** 10:33 A.M.  
Come over and find out

  


  


  


  


  


  


Kent didn’t know what to expect, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Ransom wanted him to put more manure in the garden. But the first thing Ransom said when he opened the front door was “Are you Kent? Hold this,” and he handed Kent a weird artsy photo of someone’s feet, so Kent was pretty much flummoxed.

“Why do you have a picture of feet?” he asked. He didn’t know what else there was to ask. 

“Lardo,” Ransom said. “Do you know who Lardo is? I didn’t have time to read everything.”

Kent assumed Ransom was talking about all his files. “Yeah, we FaceTimed once. What are you doing with her art?” He decided to drop the specific question about feet, because he really didn’t need to know if Ransom (or Holster?) had a foot fetish or something.

“Hanging it up,” Ransom said. “I need you to tell me if it’s crooked.” 

Kent stepped into the house, and was immediately aware of the chaos within. Wallpaper strips, empty picture frames, an ornate wall mirror that hadn’t been attached yet. “You’re… decorating?” he said. “And you invited me?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you make any decisions,” Ransom said. “Strictly physical labor.”

Kent could do that. 

Ransom had totally been lying, though. He asked Kent for his opinion on pretty much everything, but it was okay because Ransom clearly had no clue what he was doing either. 

“Ransom,” Kent said later. He was curled up on the couch -- taking a break, allegedly, but he was pretty sure he was just quitting -- and Ransom was examining the wallpaper samples they hadn’t gone over yet. “You have feet on your wall. What the fuck.” 

“They’re… art?” Ransom stared at him. “Lardo said they were art.”

Kent stared back. “Yeah, and feet.”

“Oh my god, I thought they’d make me look cultured. What the fuck?”

Kent ugly-laughed, way too loud, covering his face in his elbow, and Ransom doubled over, too. Kent liked the sound of Ransom’s laugh, liked sharing stupid moments like this. He knew Ransom would jot it down -- he took notes on literally everything -- but he didn’t think any sentence could capture how silly and hilarious it was, the way it felt to share a smile with Ransom when they were done laughing and both wiping at their eyes.

It wasn’t fair. 

“I give up,” Ransom said, still gasping for air a little. “Decorating is officially a bust for the day. I’m gonna work on some career planning stuff, but honestly feel free to just hang out. It’s fun.” 

“No prob.” Kent was about ten seconds from just melting into the couch anyway. “Pro tip, you can probably cross ‘interior decorator’ off your career list.”

Ransom snorted, loud, and shook his head. 

Kent smiled, then hid his face in his elbow again so he wouldn’t look stupid.

  


  


  


  


  


  


He woke up. It was hard to tell how much time had passed -- the sunlight was coming in just as brightly through the windows, and Ransom was still hunched over his laptop in the same spot -- but Kent felt groggy and warm like he’d been sleeping. 

“Hey,” he mumbled.

Ransom looked up. His whole face brightened. “Hey,” he said, and he immediately shut his laptop. “I just ordered pizza. The kind we both like.”

Kent stretched out. He felt too happy at that, like Ransom reading his own notes about pizza toppings was a declaration of feelings, but that was how he felt. “Mm. Yay.” 

Ransom giggled. It was so great when he did that, the sound almost too high-pitched and adorable to originate from his 6’2”, muscle-bound frame. He moved closer, sitting on the couch an inch away from Kent, and that was great too. “I’m glad you’re up. I swear, working on career planning makes me feel like throwing the computer across the room. It’s like I have an allergic reaction in my _soul_ when I open up that file.”

“Yeah.” Kent touched Ransom’s arm, just because. “I know you hate it. But you’re going to like it when you figure out what you want to do.” 

“I don’t care what I do,” Ransom said, grumpy in a way that Kent tried not to smile at. “I could sell berries in a little stand on the side of the road, I don’t care, as long as it gets me out of the house and lets me make enough money that I don’t have to depend on my family and Holster for the rest of my life.” 

“Cool, let’s do it. People need fruit. Smoothies.” 

“I think someone’s still tired,” Ransom said. He nudged at Kent, coaxing him into a sitting-up position. Even then, he didn’t take his hand off Kent’s back. “There. So you’re selling fruit with me?” 

Kent had been hoping Ransom wouldn’t notice that. Weird phrasing. “Yeah, man. You do the science stuff, like genetic engineering to make super-seeds or whatever, and I’ll handle our finances.”

Ransom’s fingers flexed against Kent’s back for a moment. “Thanks, dude. Like, really. For everything.”

“Hey, it’s no --”

“I mean it. Like, I don’t know, I was really overwhelmed and sad this morning? But my notes said you had the day off and I should text you, and that it would be great. And, like, I didn’t know if I believed that. Because I had no idea who you were, so why would it be better to invite you over than talk on the phone with my mom or something? But it was. Great. You know?”

Kent leaned in, just to let their shoulders touch. It felt like the right thing to do. “Yeah. I mean -- yeah.” He could do so much better than that. “And, like, that’s what I like about you, man. Well, one of the million things. That you say stuff like that. Like, I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m really glad you told me.”

Before Ransom moved, Kent felt it: a quick intake of breath. Ransom’s shoulder trembling against his own. And then Ransom kissed him.

It was a few seconds. Just long enough for Kent to lose his breath and find it again, to feel how warm Ransom’s mouth was, to feel like there was a whole fireworks show going off in his head.

“Is that okay?” Ransom asked, pulling away. “I don’t know -- my notes didn’t tell me enough -- are you --”

“Come back,” Kent said, and he pulled Ransom back onto him, probably too intensely. Ransom didn’t seem to mind, though, and everything was perfect again for a couple minutes.

When they finally stopped, Ransom had to help him sit up again. Kent was kind of floating away. “I liked that so much,” Ransom said. “So, do you want me to stay home from the bar tonight?”

Kent wound his arms around Ransom’s neck. “What do you think,” he said, and he kissed Ransom again.


	3. Chapter 3

Holster didn’t talk to Kent that day, but Kent knew better than to think it wasn’t coming.

Still, he couldn’t help but yelp in confused fear when Holster tapped on his bedroom window at eight-fifteen on Saturday morning. “I have a doorbell,” Kent croaked, after recovering from dropping his phone on his face, but Holster just did the clichéd I’m-watching-you gesture. “God, okay.”

Kent wandered out around back, still barefoot and in his sleep clothes. “Hey, dude.”

“So, like, I’m happy for you,” Holster started. He didn’t sound particularly happy, but Kent figured it was still true. “Ransom was happy yesterday. He was kind of happy today. I just want you to know that I’m going to be talking with Rans every night, about everything you do and everything you say that day, so if you think you can ever take advantage of his amnesia to get away with being a dick just because he’ll forget it later, I want you to know right now that it won’t work.”

Kent stared at him. “That’s -- I mean, it’s cool that you’re looking out for him and all, but Jesus, I’m not going to --”

“I don’t mean like you’re a fucking supervillain, I mean like you’re a normal human being who might fuck up someday and think it won’t be a problem to tell a little white lie. That it’s so easy to get away with it, with Ransom being the way he is now, and that it’s not really that big a deal. Well, it’s a big fucking deal, and I’m telling you right now that if you treat him like that, I’ll know about it. And you don’t want me knowing about shit like that, Parson.”

“I hear that.” Kent had thought about this, kind of. That Ransom wrote down pages of notes every day, but there was no way he’d be able to record every tiny detail, and no way that he’d have enough time to actually read everything each morning anyway. “I’m never going to lie to him on purpose. And, like, if there’s some kind of misunderstanding I’ll clear it up as soon as I know about it. So don’t kill me.”

“I will if I have to.” Holster shifted his feet. “And Ransom says you should come over today.”

“Huh?”

“Lunch. I’m cooking, because he’s milking it once again and says he doesn’t want to stress over it. Saturdays have always been for us to chill, so I’m also mad at you for that. Anyway, does twelve-thirty sound good?”

Kent’s feet were cold and he didn’t know how to talk to Holster about feelings, no matter how many of them Holster appeared to be managing poorly. “It sounds great. I’m going inside. You want coffee?”

“Yeah,” Holster said, after a pause. “Cream, no sugar.”

Kent led Holster toward the door. “Sure, sure. You’re the one making it.”

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**Wake up!**

Hey Rans. It’s me, you. No, you didn’t get really drunk. You have a TBI from a car accident on August 16, 2019. You are experiencing anterograde amnesia, so your short term memory only lasts for one day at a time now. This has been ongoing since the accident, but you’re doing good. You can look through the folders in your drive here for info about your day-to-day stuff, or you can talk to Holtzy in person (roommates for life) or call Mom, Dad, or Catherine if you have questions or just want to talk. You’re living in Little Haven with Holster. The population is less than 900, which means everyone around here knows your situation and will help you out if you get confused. Plus, the doctor said a quiet environment where you can just focus on getting better is ideal. It’s pretty decent. 

Today, you were planning to hang out with the guy you’ve been dating recently (like, a week). His name is Kent. Check your Instagram to get an idea of who he is/what he looks like. Don’t be freaked out that you don’t remember him. Or, like, DO freak out, because that’s normal, but give him a chance. You’ve been hanging out as friends, and as flirty-friends, for a long time, and he’s pretty great. He’s coming over at 10:45 just to hang out and cook you lunch. Later, you’re going kayaking with Holster and a guy Holster knows, Jason Brown. Holster also wants to order Chinese food tonight and watch a movie or something?? But you might be tired by then.

Look around your files as much as you want -- whatever you want, there’s probably a file on it -- but you’re honestly doing fine. For real. You have stuff to do and people to hang out with, so don’t take too long. Go live your life!!!

(Also, text Holtzy for a hug if you’re sad and I guarantee he’ll be here in under forty seconds. I’ve got the spreadsheet to prove it. Kent honestly does help you feel better too, so if you’re feeling shitty later in the day and want to cancel other plans just to hang out with him, he said he has today pretty much free.)

  


  


  


  


  


  


“Why did you let me do this?” Ransom demanded as he walked into Holster’s room. He didn’t know how he automatically knew how to find Holster’s room in this unfamiliar house; he just did it. He waved his phone in the air and glared at his best friend.

Holster was already wide awake. He patted the bed next to him, and Ransom slid in even though he was upset and wanted to blame Holster for it. “Hugs first,” he said.

As soon as they hugged, Ransom couldn’t feel angry anymore. Damn it, he should have known that would happen. No matter how much here was scary and different, some things clearly never changed. “Why am I dating some guy I don’t know? What the hell?” 

“Kent’s cool,” Holster said. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ransom’s shoulders. Everything about it was familiar and right, from the pressure to the smell to Holster’s hot, annoying breath on Ransom’s ear. “Are you okay? I know mornings are shitty.”

“I’m fine, I’m just confused about this Kent thing. Is he my boyfriend? Am I not allowed to have sex with other people? Have you met him? Dumb question, of course you’ve met him. How long have --”

Holster tapped Ransom’s wrist. “These are good questions. Can I show you the file where you have a lot of answers? And then if you still have more questions, we can add those.”

Ransom tried to take a deep breath. It didn’t really work, but at least he was breathing. “Okay. Thanks, bro. And, like, thanks for doing this every morning? Do you do this every morning? That must suck total ass, I’m sorry.”

“Of course I do this every morning, dude. And it doesn’t suck at all. Here, look, it’s right here. You don’t have to click around much for Kent’s file, it’s right on your main drive page. You haven’t used the boyfriend label with each other, you’re currently monogamous but haven’t talked about it much, I think he’s awesome and I totally approve of and support your union, you’ve known him for three months and have been dating for a week. What else do you want to know?”

Ransom’s pulse was racing. “Uh. I don’t know. I -- God, what is this? Why am I doing this? Why am I even thinking about this?”

“I get why you’re worried, bro. You just really like each other? It hasn’t --”

“No, I mean why am I even thinking about this right now when I should be freaking out about having amnesia? I’m, like, totally chill about that. Why?”

Holster reached out and started scratching Ransom’s shoulder. “I don’t know, man, you just are. Sometimes that’s how it is. You talked to your doctor about it and it sounds like maybe your brain is holding onto the memories of finding out about the amnesia every morning, so even though you can’t access those memories you still don’t have to take as long to process the news every time?” Holster shrugged. “But then sometimes you’re really upset. It’s not always the same.”

Ransom grabbed the pillow out from under Holster’s head and hugged it. “This is so fucked up. Ugh. I’m taking a shower. Should I text Kent? Is he going to be worried about whether I still want him to come over?”

Holster shoved him toward the side of the bed. “See, you’re such a nice boyfriend already. I said I’d text him if you wouldn’t be able to do it today, but yeah, he’d be happy if you said hi. Now go take a shower, you smell like shit.”

“Whatever, I’m not his boyfriend yet,” Ransom mumbled. 

He took a shower. He looked at his file on Kent again. He went through his skincare routine, using the expensive stuff that he’d hidden where Holster wouldn’t be able to find it and chirp him for it, just like one of the files on his phone had said. He stared at Kent’s contact info on his phone, at their messaging history.

Kent came over at 10:45. Ransom still hadn’t texted.

“Hey,” Ransom said. He’d told himself to give Kent a chance, and Holster said the guy was great, and now that Kent was here Ransom could see that he was hot and normal and had this look in his eye like he was super into Ransom. But Ransom was hyper-aware of his own tension, and he didn’t think his friendliness was coming off very natural. “I found a bunch of stuff in the fridge, I guess for making lunch today?”

“Yeah.” Kent smiled at him, warmer than Ransom could really appreciate right now. “You provide the ingredients, I provide the labor. And we listen to our shared Spotify playlist. That’s the deal.”

Ransom knew that. It was on the file. There was too much on the file, long transcripts of entire conversations, weird spreadsheets of what movies made Kent fall asleep, how much he drank, what days of the week he was happiest, when he was healthy and when he had a cold. He didn’t know how he was supposed to read all that every day, or what motivated him to record it in the first place. 

“This is weird for you,” Kent said. “Sorry, I know it’s -- we don’t have to do exactly what we planned. But if you want to just hang out with Holster for awhile, I can still make lunch, as long as you’re cool with lunch being extremely subpar.”

Ransom opened his mouth to protest, to be polite, but if they were dating then honesty was important. “Yeah, I think I might do that. Just for a little while.”

“That’s okay,” Kent said. He said it like he meant it, and then he smiled again. This one was flirty, easier for Ransom to connect with. “It’s probably for the best. If you stay, you’ll see how it takes me ten minutes to chop up one onion, and I don’t know if our relationship can handle that right now.”

Ransom laughed. “Yeah, okay. We can do something later, okay? After lunch.”

Kent shrugged. “You have that kayaking thing. And it’s okay, Ransom. It was easy for us to get comfortable right away when we were just friends, but this is way more for you to adjust to now. I think it’ll take some time.”

“I don’t have time,” Ransom said. He didn’t mean to say that. “But yeah, I can cancel the kayaking thing. I’m not dating either of those dudes. I don’t even know who one of them is. And if this is technically, like, the only day I have to spend with you, I want to spend it with you.”

“If you want to cancel it, go ahead,” Kent said. “Like, I’m not complaining. But we have plenty of time. Not every day has to be perfect.”

“That’s pretty fucking wise.”

Kent snorted. It was ugly and made this weird feeling happen in Ransom’s chest. “Bro, I’m just paraphrasing your doctor; I’m actually the biggest dumbass there is. But for real, if you want to go hang out with Holster for awhile, I won’t take it personally. We can eat together and then see from there, okay?”

“Yeah, dude, sounds like a plan.”

Ransom watched as Kent disappeared into the kitchen. He didn’t know what to think. He kind of felt like running away just so he didn’t have to spend the afternoon with a sort-of-boyfriend he’d never met and who he was sort of terrified of pissing off, just in case the Ransom who woke up tomorrow would get all romantic about it and then be sad if they broke up or something. He also felt like following Kent into the kitchen, partly out of courtesy but also because he seemed like a cool guy.

He mostly just wanted to hide away with Holster, to find one thing that felt like his old life. 

“You said no to lunch, huh?” Holster said as soon as Ransom plopped back down on the bed.

“Do you just lie in bed all day now?” Ransom asked sourly. “And no. I’m going to eat it. Just not stay with him while he cooks.”

“You’re the best not-boyfriend ever.” Holster kicked him gently. “But nah, it’s fine. Kent gets it. And I’ll check on him. And you don’t have to date him at all if you don’t want to. It might feel like you do, since you wrote all that stuff about him in your notes, but if you change your mind that’s allowed. You’re still you.”

Ransom thought he smelled noodles cooking. The file had said they were making lo mein today. “I just thought -- I don’t know. That he’d walk in, and I’d feel this crazy magical connection, something that would explain why I’m doing something like this. But he’s cute, and he’s really great, but I’m not, like, swept off my feet. I guess that’s normal.”

“It is.”

Ransom stared at the ceiling. “I guess I should go hang out with him.”

Holster shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything just because you feel like you should. What do you want to do?”

“I want to be served breakfast in bed. And then see if making out causes any of that crazy magical love connection stuff.”

Holster laughed. “Cool. But not in my bed. And don’t put too much pressure on Kent to make you fall in love in a day. You’re literally not even in love with him, like, ever. You’re just dating. Not in a relationship. Not boyfriends. Dating.”

Ransom felt like the pressure on his chest was lifting. Partly because of Holster’s words, partly because of the food he was smelling, partly because he was imagining making out with a hot guy he’d just met. “Yeah, yeah.”

He got out of Holster’s bed.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


When Kent mentioned in a text that he was in love with all the changing leaves outside, he wasn’t expecting Ransom to invite him along to one of his private places. Kent had heard about them, how Ransom could get overwhelmed by the heaviness of his new life and had a list of places in the outdoors where he could go to just be alone. Not even Holster got to come with.

But Ransom was full of surprises. 

_Wanna go for a walk w me tomorrow?_ Ransom sent back. _I was pissy today and I went to this one place that apparently is big for me. It’s really gorgeous._

_You sure? I’d love to, but you can keep it to yourself if you want to._

_I’m sure_

So Kent picked Ransom up in his truck on Saturday morning. It was still a new thing for Kent, worrying about how Ransom would react to him for the first time. Today, Ransom seemed like he was cheerful, more resilient than last weekend. 

“Hey, lover,” Ransom said as he opened the passenger-side door and climbed up. “Unless this is the wrong car, in which case, shit.” 

Kent laughed. “Yeah, man, wrong car. Run away with me?”

“Sorry, I’m kind of seeing someone right now. But you’re really cute, so what the hell. Let’s go.”

Kent backed out of the driveway carefully. “So, where are you taking me? There are way too many nature trails for such a tiny town, I literally have no idea what to expect.” He trusted Ransom to navigate, as Ransom was using the GPS on his phone, but it was weird driving with no sense of where they were headed.

“You’ll see. Turn right at the stop sign up there.” Ransom was quiet for a few moments. “Is it weird for you to date me? With, you know, my brain being the way it is now?”

“Yeah. It can be weird. But I like you.” 

Ransom glanced at him. He looked almost embarrassed, but his smile was real. “Oh. Aw. I mean, I like you too. I like you right now. You seem cool based on, like, all my notes and stuff. Oh, turn right up ahead.”

Kent hit the brake, harder than he would have liked. “You know, this all would be so much easier if you told me where we’re going. Is this a murder thing? Is that why it’s a surprise?”

“No, it’s a romantic thing.”

Kent was kind of stunned into silence at that, but he was pretty sure his face was bright red enough to do the talking for him. He knew it was just a word, but it still -- it was nice to hear. Really nice.

The trail Ransom finally navigated them to was beautiful. Kent could tell that from the moment they arrived. There were no other cars, probably because the path only wrapped around one little pond, but Ransom promised that there was a section that veered off into the woods, so it was longer than it appeared. 

They walked around the pond once, mostly paying attention to the bird calls, the reflective surface of the water, and the different colors in the trees. Kent found a raspberry bush, and they picked so many they felt kind of guilty.

“I can’t believe this,” Ransom said. He was barely understandable with his mouth full. “I must have walked here a hundred times. Never saw this. Not in my notes at all. You’re a nature genius.” 

Kent laughed. The sun was warm on his neck, and he was crouching down close enough to Ransom that their shoulders were probably less than an inch apart. He felt dizzy with it, wanting to close the distance. 

“You wanna keep walking?” Ransom asked. He stood up and offered Kent a hand. “There’s a spot that’s supposed to be cool up ahead, in the woods. We can eat lunch there, and -- bro, your fingers are messy as fuck. Living that berry life.”

“Oh. Ha.” Kent sucked the juice off without really thinking about it, quickly moving from one finger to another, and it wasn’t until he saw Ransom staring at him that he actually processed how sexual that was. “Oh my god, stop. If you sit there and stare at me everytime I do anything hot we’ll never get anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Ransom said. Kent was definitely not imagining it that his voice sounded kind of hoarse. “Yeah, let’s -- come on.”

They left the pond trail and ventured off into the woods. Kent let himself fall into step right behind Ransom instead of next to him, mostly so he could get a chance to compose himself.

He hadn’t realized how it would make him feel, to be wanted by Ransom. And it wasn’t like Ransom had never looked at him like he wanted things to go further, or like Kent hadn’t done the same. But this was -- different. The energy was different, more like a need than a want. 

Kent’s heart was racing, and it felt _good_, but he still needed to calm down. This wasn’t that kind of date.

“Holy shit, this is pretty,” Ransom said, sounding more like he was talking to himself than Kent. “I mean, I’ve been here before, but I don’t remember it? Are you seeing this view?”

It was a nice angle down toward the pond, framed by the changing autumn leaves. Nothing spectacular, but Kent could see why Ransom was so into it. There was something peaceful, like anxiety he didn’t know he had was just lifted off of him. “Wow. That’s so pretty, like, not in a loud way? It just is.” 

“Yeah.” Ransom reached out and grabbed Kent’s hand, and woah, that was nice. “Hey, can I show you my favorite spot? I mean, I’ll be showing myself, too, but apparently it’s where I like to sit if I want to be out here for a long time.” 

They found it soon: a large rock, at least two yards across, half in the shade and half in the sun. It was near the downward slope of a hill, and Kent was pretty sure this was the kind of place picnics were made for. Ransom pulled a huge lunch box out of his backpack, set up the sandwiches and cheese puffs and blueberries. 

“Oh, here,” Ransom said, putting a plastic water bottle on the flat surface of the rock. “I should have given this to you right away. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kent climbed onto the rock. He liked how it was warm under him, how it would make sense for him and Ransom to sit side-by-side. “Thanks for doing all this. Today’s been really great.” 

Ransom sat down next to him. “Yeah. I mean -- yeah. It took awhile for me to wrap my head around it this morning, like, the whole situation? I basically just wanted to stay in bed and be depressed, and call my mom and cry or whatever. But I don’t know, this is my life now. If I spent half my day every day just wallowing in it, I’d have the shittiest life ever. And I figure, if in the past I somehow put in all the effort to get you to date me, and was actually, like, successful at it, I should just enjoy that today. And I did enjoy it, for real. I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I am too,” Kent said. His throat was tight. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to do any of the ridiculous things he wanted, because no matter how nice it would feel in the moment, Ransom would write it down and probably be really weirded out the next day. “Like, really happy. I -- I know this isn’t easy for you. Like, any of it, but specifically trying to date me. And -- yeah. I don’t know, I’m just really glad you planned all this.” He needed to stop talking, so he bit into one of the cheese puffs and left it at that.

“Kent,” Ransom said, and the hair on Kent’s arms stood up. He moved closer to Kent, shoulders brushing, legs touching. “Hey. I want to kiss you. Like, a crazy amount I want to kiss you. That work for you?”

Kent’s heart was hammering so hard he felt like he could pass out. “I’m eating a cheese puff right now,” he managed.

Ransom giggled. “Yeah, okay. I’ll wait.”

Kent tried to chew fast, but this fucking cheese puff was weirdly dense and hard to get through? “Sorry, almost done,” he mumbled. Ransom started giggling more, which made Kent laugh too, which made it even harder to chew. By the time Kent finished, Ransom was laughing so hard he had hidden his face in his hands. “Okay, I’m done,” Kent said, gasping for breath a little, and Ransom lifted his face.

Ransom lifted his face, and just looked at Kent, smiling and catching his breath. But when Kent inhaled, a little ragged, a little expectant, Ransom was there to tuck one hand against Kent’s jaw and pull him in. 

Kent closed his eyes and fell into it -- the warm taste of Ransom’s mouth, the way Ransom’s arm felt tight and strong across Kent’s back, the quiet little touches Ransom was pressing into Kent’s jawline. The low breeze on their skin, the sun heating up their rock, their pulses thrumming against each other at different points of contact. Kissing Ransom. Everything. 

“I can’t believe this,” Ransom gasped, moving back just enough to breathe, and to press more kisses against Kent’s neck. “I like you so much.”

“I want you,” Kent heard himself say. “Please. Now.”

Ransom shuddered. Kent felt it all along his body. “We haven’t had sex yet,” he said, like he was pretty sure it was true but he just wanted to check.

“I like you so much,” Kent whispered. Ransom’s arms around him were tight, squeezing almost too hard, and he never wanted it to stop. 

“Probably not on this rock, though,” Ransom said. “We should --” 

Kent kissed him again, not listening.

  


  


  


  


  


  


They kissed all the way back to Kent’s truck, too, stopping so often that the sun was setting by the time Kent got the door open. 

Ransom lifted Kent into the driver’s seat, and they made out for an embarrassing amount of time before Kent managed to move back. “I can’t believe we had sex on the rock,” Ransom said. It was probably the sixth time he’d said it. “I’m going to judge myself so bad when I read that tomorrow.”

“I think it was nice,” Kent said, pulling Ransom against him again, and no one needed to know how long it took them to leave.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


“So, how’s small town life treating you these days? Have you discovered any religious cults?”

“Mom,” Kent said, “if I discovered a religious cult I wouldn’t be alive to tell you about it. Come on now.” 

His mother laughed, beautiful and tinkly over the phone line. A huge part of the reason Kent had been willing to move across the country for this job was to be closer to her. There hadn’t been a good opportunity to make that two-hour drive yet, but it was comforting to know she was right there. “How’s the job treating you, honey? Are the hours what you thought they’d be?” 

“Yeah, Mom, they’re great. No weekends, evenings are rare. Just twice so far, actually.” Nothing like his old job, which had been bad enough that his mom had bluntly told him to locate his balls and quit. “It’s more interesting than I thought it would be, too. They have a ton of different accounts for me to look over; it’s pretty cool.”

“That’s great, baby. And in your spare time are you still reading those erotica novels?”

Kent choked. “Mom! No! I have literally no idea what you think I was reading that one time, but it wasn’t erotica. And, I repeat, it was one time. It was just, like, romance. Stop being gross, you’re a mom.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “I just wanted to creep you out, babe, you have no idea how hilarious it is. So is it Amish romance?”

“That’s a secret I’m taking to my grave, Mom. What have you been up to?”

She talked about the classes she was taking, the friend whose divorce she knew way too many details about, the shade of blue she was painting the kitchen. “And, Kent, don’t get too crabby with me for asking, I know it’s a small town and you’ve only been there three months, but -- are you meeting anyone? I’m not looking for a future son-in-law here, just any interesting news in your dating life, if you have one.”

“Of course I have one!” Kent said. Like an idiot. “I mean -- yeah. I’m dating.”

“I created you, sweetheart. I brought you into this world. Share some deets.”

He was going to kill his sister for teaching her that word. “I dunno, Mom, it’s been maybe two weeks? Three? We’re not at the boyfriend level. There’s nothing huge to tell.” 

“You could start with his name.”

Kent didn’t know how much he should even say. He didn’t lie to his mom, or at least he hadn’t for years. But he didn’t want her to worry, or to get mad at him for doing something she thought was stupid, or to add any of her stress to what was already a stressful situation. “His name’s Justin. We met at a coffee shop in town and I spilled my drink all over him. He’s pretty cool.”

His mom laughed at him, as was her right. “That’s my baby. You should send me a picture. Is he cute?” 

Kent was a terrible son. He was basically in love, and he was dating someone with amnesia who had to relearn who he was every morning and who didn’t have a job. These were details his mom should know. 

And there was no way he was going to tell her right now. He didn’t want to hear her response. “Yeah, yeah. If I send you a picture you’re just going to drive down here and cougar him away.”

“Kent _Parson_,” his mother laughed, and they talked about how she was quitting her book club, and how he was drinking again, how he was being careful, how Riley was just starting to consider that she might want to stop drinking and wasn’t life just funny like that?

Kent still felt like a bad son when they’d both hung up, but he was dealing with it. 

He made a note that he should apply for a Friday off soon so he could go spend a long weekend in New York with his mom. It made him feel better, a little. He’d take that.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


It took Ransom ten minutes to send Kent one text. _Wanna come over?_

Holster said it was a totally fine way to start today’s conversation, but Ransom felt weird not introducing himself or something. Justifying why he had the nerve to invite Kent over without getting to know him first. 

_Now??_ Kent sent back.

_Yeah. If you want._

It took a minute to get a response. _I was just surprised cause you’re usually too tired on Thursdays. I’m in for the night cleaning up after work friends came over. Do you wanna come join me? It’s ok if you want to have your quiet night in though._

Ransom _was_ tired, was the thing. Kent was right about that. He’d done a bunch of social calls all morning and afternoon, updating the local grandma circuit about his love life. And it wasn’t terrible, they were actually kind of precious and clearly felt the same about him, plus they gave him blueberry streusel to take home, but the idea of going out again wasn’t really calling to him.

So he didn’t know why he responded, _Sure! Can I come over now or do you want me to wait?_

_Now’s good. I have leftovers if you want :)_

Ransom drove over. He was technically stranding Holster for the night, since they shared a car, but Holster waved him off as he watched his fourth episode of Friends in a row. 

He only had one picture of Kent’s house in his Kent folder -- which was crazy; the only other people who had folders were Holster and his mom -- and it didn’t really do justice to how adorable and, like, square the place was. It would be cuter with a little garden, Ransom thought, and was immediately horrified at the person he’d apparently become.

Ransom rang the doorbell after a minute or two of stalling. He was weirdly nervous about meeting Kent for the first time -- well, the first time today. 

The door opened. Ransom’s heart beat faster. “Hey,” Kent said, lighting up the second he saw Ransom. It was really, really cute, and Ransom was smiling immediately even as he tried to figure out what it was about Kent that made him look hotter than his pictures. “I’m still cleaning, got a long ways to go. Do you mind just sitting around and eating chips and guac?”

“Do I mind,” Ransom repeated. He stepped into the house and tried to quickly figure out if a handshake, hug, or just walking past would work best. He went for the hug, and didn’t really know why, but it felt actually kind of amazing? Kent was smaller than him, just enough for Ransom to feel the difference, and he held onto Ransom for a second longer after Ransom let go. “No, I don’t mind. Actually, I’m really happy I came here. Give me the tour?”

Immediately, he wanted to take the words back. He’d been here before, several times, and there was no reason to make Kent feel bad by reminding him that he’d forgotten everything. But Kent grinned like it didn’t matter and showed Ransom the living room, kitchen, study, bedroom, and guest room, and pointed out where the bathrooms were, as if this really were the first time. The place was nice, but it was pretty obvious that there had been a birthday party or here. Either that or Kent really liked balloons and frosting-covered paper plates.

“And that is the couch,” Kent finished, once they were back in the living room, “and that is where your butt will sit while you shovel down a whole bag of chips with guac. And I will restore my home to its previous beauty. Or, like, averageness. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Ransom said, and he gave Kent another hug, just because. While Kent went from room to room with a garbage bag, Ransom jotted down more specific notes on Kent’s house, because like hell was he going to keep making Kent show him around the place. 

When the new notes were complete, Ransom helped himself to some chips and guac. The place was cute on the inside, too, he noted, even with the evidence of a big get-together still lingering. There were photos of Kent’s family and Vegas friends on the walls, catnip toys scattered across the floor, and the distinct feeling that every piece of furniture was from Ikea. 

Ransom loved it. He looked over at Kent, who was carefully stacking up a big pile of dirty dishes and glasses. “I love your house,” he said, and Kent glanced up, surprised. “I already feel like I know you better just from sitting in this room.”

Kent’s face slowly broke into an embarrassed smile. “Uh, thanks,” he said. “It’s kinda nasty right now, I swear if you give me like fifteen minutes --”

“Your mom’s cute,” Ransom cut in. He pointed at the picture.

“Ugh, I’m never telling her you said that.” Kent laughed and picked up the last glass. “But really, I’ll go fast. I’ll listen to my cleaning playlist and speed through it, and then we can hang out, okay?”

Ransom had it on good authority -- namely, his own notes -- that Kent’s “cleaning playlist” was actually just a romance audiobook. “Yeah, no, do your thing,” he said. “I’ll just eat you out of house and home over here.” 

He sat back, wondering why he had accidentally uttered the phrase “I’ll eat you out”, and inhaled half the bag of chips in his shame. 

They’d had sex. It was super fucking weird to read about it and not even remember meeting the guy, but then again Ransom had had sex with plenty of people in town. Just, those people were randoms and were fine with being randoms. Kent was different. 

“Hey, can I help with anything?” he asked, and Kent took an earbud out. “Can I help with anything?” Ransom repeated. 

“I’m really just gonna finish up in the bathroom,” Kent said. “Like, just to be on the safe side. You don’t have to help with that, I know you hate it.”

Ransom did hate it. A lot. But he’d offered, and it would be a dick move to rescind the offer, and he kind of wanted to make Kent happy. “Nah, I got this. Toilet? Sink? Mirror? Floor? All of the above?”

“You can leave the floor alone, that’s fine.” Kent smiled at him. It was kind of glowy, like when Kent had first opened the door. Ransom wanted to make him keep smiling like that. “Dude, this is, like, the height of romance.” 

Ransom bounced on the balls of his feet a little. He was way too happy for a conversation that revolved around him cleaning a bathroom. “It’s literally not a problem at all. I wanna do this for you, but in exchange I really need to know the name of the romance novel you’re listening to. It’s gonna drive me crazy otherwise.”

“Uh --” Kent scrambled to hide his phone screen. “God, I’d hate you if you weren’t so cute. I don’t normally listen to romance stuff, okay? My sister just, like, told me I had to listen to this so we can talk about it, and I’m humoring her, but I don’t even like it --”

“Hey, don’t bring Riley into this,” Ransom said, just to see the look on Kent’s face when he got the name right. “I know for a fact you do this whenever you clean. And that’s cool, I think it’s cute. Or manly, whatever you want. But what’s it called?”

Kent glared at him, but it wasn’t even slightly convincing. “I don’t want to say. Romance novel titles are embarrassing.”

“Yes, they are. Which is why I have to hear it. Please, please, please.”

Kent crossed his arms. “The Duchess Deal. And I never listen to that whole duke and duchess genre. For real, this is the first time! I just heard it was good. And it’s really cute, fuck off, stop laughing at me!”

“Oh my god, I have the best taste in men,” Ransom said, and immediately got scared that Kent would interpret it as a sarcastic insult. “Like, literally, you’re the best. I’m going to clean your bathroom so good.”

“You’d better,” Kent said, but he smacked Ransom’s ass as he passed, and Ransom kind of couldn’t stop thinking about him even while he cleaned the toilet.

And, finally, the house was clean. Ransom had carefully washed his hands, twice, and didn’t have any bathroom germs on him anymore, and Kent had put away the chips and guac and replaced them with wine and brownies. “You’re buying your own wine,” Ransom noted, and fuck, maybe that sounded judgey --

“Yeah. I told my mom I’m drinking again, which I think is, like, a milestone? And, like, I kind of feel like I need to trust myself if I’m doing this, because otherwise what’s the point.” Kent rubbed the lip of his wine glass, avoiding Ransom’s eyes. “Which is, like, weird, I know, that it’s this whole thing to keep it in my house, but yeah, it’s here. Oh, and if you don’t want a brownie, I can grab something else.”

“Kent.” Ransom waited until Kent looked up. “I want a brownie. Or, like, four of them, if you don’t slap my hand away fast enough. And, like, I’m really glad to hear that you feel ready for this? And I’m so fucking happy you invited me over. And would it be totally weird if you played your romance novel for us to listen to? I kind of actually want to know what it’s like.”

Kent laughed, snorting a little, and threw his hands up. “What the hell, why not. But only if you snuggle me.” He immediately flinched. “I mean, that’s a joke. Sorry. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, sorry.” 

Ransom nudged at Kent with his knee. “Get over here, then.”

Kent let out his breath, and Ransom pulled him in close before Kent could even move. “I missed you,” Kent mumbled into Ransom’s chest, and Ransom was momentarily sad at the understanding that he would never really be able to miss Kent. Still, he was discovering how nice it felt to have Kent’s face pressed into his neck, and that was worth thinking about.

“Why the fuck did I wait all day to text you,” Ransom said, and it was kind of embarrassing how hoarse his voice was. When he flipped Kent onto his back so he could climb over him, it was gratifying to see how easily Kent let him, how naturally Kent’s legs moved up to wrap around him. “You’re perfect.”

Kissing Kent was perfect too, exciting and new, comforting and familiar at the same time. _I want to stay here,_ Ransom thought. 

He did. It went against pretty much everything he understood about his condition, about what would work realistically for a relationship, and even against what he remembered from before the accident -- hell, in college he’d been a neurotic mess every time a dating situation started crossing the line into a relationship -- but he didn’t want to let Kent go. He didn’t want this, what they had, to slip away just because he hadn’t put a label on it.

He wanted to know that Kent would still be there next week, next month. Fuck, even next year.

“Why are you so good at kissing,” Ransom mumbled, because maybe that was why he was being so weird about this relationship, and Kent’s only answer was to start unbuttoning Ransom’s jeans, so, like. He’d worry about it later.

  


  


  


  


  


  


He made a note of it before falling asleep. 

_I’m realizing I want to turn this into a long-term commitment thing. Run it by Holster tomorrow, he was sleeping when I got home. Sex again. Reading Duchess Deal. Has wine at his house. I want to be his boyfriend. Cleaned his toilet. Yikes._

Ransom set his phone aside and stared at the ceiling. _Shit._ He was pretty sure he was falling in love. 

He didn’t write it down; it was too scary. 

He fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Kent knew that Ransom volunteered once a week at the Little Haven Children’s Theatre. He basically had a standing invitation to drop by any Wednesday, and so far had stopped in to watch a couple rehearsals, plus one performance -- something where the kids were pretending to be squirrels and birds? Kent didn’t get it.

He didn’t know much about theatre, but he knew this experience was a big part of Ransom’s life. Ransom had told him earlier that week that tonight would be another performance, an abridged version of _Oliver Twist_. Kent had at least heard of this one, and Ransom had dropped about a billion hints that it would be cool for Kent to come watch. 

He sort of wanted to text Ransom, something along the lines of “See ya tonight,” but Ransom always texted first now that they were dating. It wasn’t really something they had discussed, but it was how things were -- it was probably easier for Ransom that way, communicating on his terms when he had processed things and was ready to talk. Kent didn’t want to overstep. But he did casually put on Ransom’s favorite of his outfits, because if he was going to mildly surprise Ransom then he was absolutely going to look hot doing it.

The performance was sort of a mess, but fucking precious. Kent only had to get off work fifteen minutes early to get there on time, and he sat in the middle section, where he hoped he’d be inconspicuous. These things were always full, which was kind of weird, but Little Haven didn’t really have a lot going on in the way of entertainment. 

After the last curtain call, when Ransom and a couple of the other volunteers had managed to calm down a crying child who couldn’t see her parents in the audience, Kent mentally cursed himself for forgetting flowers. Again. 

Out in the lobby, there was a long, winding line of people waiting to say hi to the kids and say congratulations. There was a shorter line of people trying to talk to the director. 

There was no line at all to talk to Ransom, who was hovering by the wall watching everything, and Kent went straight toward him. 

“Hey, man, congratulations,” Kent said. “It was a fun show.”

“Thanks, dude,” Ransom said. He was smiling, but there was no direction to it. “The kids had fun doing it, you know?”

“Haha, yeah.” Kent waited for a moment, but Ransom just kept smiling at him politely. “Sorry, I kind of skipped the introduction. I’m Kent.”

Normally he didn’t have to introduce himself anymore, even if they bumped into each other in public without planning to. Ransom was good at recognizing Kent based on the pictures he had, at least, and it made Kent feel weird and kind of insecure that things were different today.

“Oh.” Ransom stared at him for a second. “Kent Parson?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kent smiled tentatively. He didn’t know where to steer the conversation from here, but Ransom wasn’t really chiming in. “Uh, what are you doing after this? Anything?”

Ransom looked at something over Kent’s shoulder. “Dunno yet, probably just hanging out. Maybe going to bed early.”

“Oh.”

“Did you get a chance to grab some hot cider? There’s a ton over there on the table if you want. Pretty good.”

Kent struggled to think of something to say, or at least to keep the smile on his face. “Oh. No, I’ll have to -- I’ll get one later. Have you been here a long time? I mean, like, today?” 

“You know, a while.” Ransom waved at somebody. Kent turned to see; there were some people in Children’s Theatre t-shirts gesturing at him. “Hey, I gotta go help clean up. See you later, okay?”

“Yeah, see ya. Great job, man, it was really….” Kent hesitated. It just seemed like Ransom was waiting for him to walk away. “It was awesome. Go on, I’ll talk to you later.”

He watched Ransom leave. There was a horrible feeling, almost like being ripped open, down his chest and lower to his stomach, and no matter how much he told himself he was overreacting, he couldn’t make it go away. He told himself to at least look unbothered in case Ransom saw him, but Ransom didn’t look back.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Kent tried to keep this fact to himself, but he was a crier. He cried during sappy movies, he cried when saying goodbye, and he was crying now. 

Apparently he wasn’t great at keeping it a secret, because when he texted Troy -- _Miss you :(_ \-- Troy immediately texted back, _Miss u too! Can’t dry ur tears from here but get one of the cats to do it for me!!_

Kent thought about denying it, but it was too much work. He just turned his phone off and considered the possibility of making tea.

He didn’t want to make tea. He wanted to drink, and to hide under a blanket and disappear from the world. Which -- what the fuck was wrong with him? Ransom had amnesia, it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be ecstatically happy to see Kent every day. That would be asking a lot of _anybody_, let alone someone who had to find out he’d suffered a severe brain injury every morning. 

But there was something about the way Ransom had looked at him, and especially the way Ransom had _not_ looked at him, that felt like a knife in Kent’s chest. Like whatever phase had led Ransom to keep thinking Kent was a decent catch was coming to an end, and pretty soon Ransom would start waking up and feeling disgust when he looked at the file he had on Kent. If that hadn’t happened already.

God, he was being self-absorbed. If he couldn’t handle one tough day, then Ransom deserved someone --

The doorbell rang. Immediately, foolishly, Kent hoped it was Ransom.

And -- it was. Tall, bundled up in a sweater and puffy vest, tense through the jaw and a little hunched at the shoulders, and beautiful. “Hey, Kent,” Ransom said. He seemed tired, but he was looking Kent right in the eye. “Is it okay if I come in?”

“Sure.” Kent’s voice cracked. Jesus. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, we can go to the living room, or we can just do this here if you don’t want --” 

“Kent,” Ransom said again. “You’re sad. You were crying.”

Kent briefly considered lying, maybe saying he’d just been watching Marley & Me or something, but that wasn’t really how relationships were supposed to work. “I guess,” he said instead. “It’s okay, though. Not every day can be a good one, right?”

“Kent.” Again. “Let’s sit down. Let me -- I want to do the talking, okay? You’re so nice, but I need a turn.”

Kent let Ransom guide him onto the couch, and he tucked himself under his afghan, the one that had been passed down from his grandmother, while Ransom pulled a chair up in front of him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, so sincere and warm that Kent felt tears in his eyes again. “Hey, Kent, I’m sorry. I was really rude to you earlier, and you were so great. You didn’t deserve that. I might not remember you, but I know who you are. I should have put in the effort. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Kent felt too much, as usual, and he automatically reached out for Ransom’s hand before remembering himself and pulling back. Ransom grabbed it and held on tight. “I -- thank you. I’m sorry too, for showing up without letting you know I was coming. I know every day is different for you, and I never want to, like, surprise you or overwhelm you or anything.” 

“I’m overwhelmed and surprised by everything,” Ransom mumbled, and he immediately flinched. “Sorry. I don’t know how to do this. I wasn’t even good at dating before my -- my accident. But you’re really important to me. Even on days where I’m feeling shitty and it’s, like, easy to make you a non-priority, I know you’re important to me. I just -- like, today I had to learn about the accident and the TBI all over again, and I had to go re-familiarize myself with the town because Holster said it was important, and I had to go help with some play I don’t know anything about, and I had to memorize a million kids’ names for the day even though I’ve met them a hundred times and I know I’ll just forget them again tomorrow. I hate this so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Kent said. He squeezed Ransom’s hand. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. How much you have to take in every day. If me being part of the picture is too much --” He cleared his throat. “You have to make yourself happy.” 

Ransom held onto Kent’s hands, tighter and tighter until it hurt. “That’s -- that’s what I want to talk about. I am making myself happy. By being with you.” He took a deep breath and looked up at Kent’s face again. “I mean, I love Holster. I love my family and, like, my college friends. But when I’m dealing with all this shit every day, turning to them feels too much like relying on a security blanket. Being with you makes me feel different. Like I’m not wallowing. More like, you know, hope.”

“I want to be that for you,” Kent said, all in a rush. He did want that. He wanted that feeling, that _wanting_, to be part of him like a rock-solid foundation, so no matter how Ransom woke up on other days, Kent’s wanting this would always pull him back. “Fuck, Ransom, I want to be with you all the time. What do you need?”

Ransom rubbed a hand over his face. “Like, a hug. And then --” He laughed quietly into Kent’s shoulder when Kent grabbed him for a hug. “Thanks, dude. Um, I need more routines, probably? That’s what I have in the other parts of my life, and it seems to work. Can you text me in the morning? And can we have a day of the week where we have, like, a standing date? I mean, I want to see you other days too, but routines are really good for me.”

“That sounds great, Rans. Maybe Sundays? Except for when you have a day off. And I can text you after I get off work, too, if you want.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Ransom took a deep breath. “I’m gonna come sit by you. Okay. So, can we -- I have a whole folder on you, did you know that? No one else has one except my mom and Holster. I don’t want to just date you, I want you to be, like, my boyfriend. Is that something you want?”

Kent rested his face on Ransom’s shoulder and just breathed in. This was the best thing he’d ever done, even if he had no idea how to explain it to other people. He didn’t have to think about his answer, which was lucky because he was way too giddy to think. “Yes. Yes, yes, that would be great. I’ll be your boyfriend, yes.”

“Good.” Ransom draped himself over Kent, finally relaxing. “Oh my god, good. You know, I’ve been staring at that note all week? That I want you to be my boyfriend? I can’t believe today’s the first time I actually did something about it. You’re so fucking amazing.”

“You’re so fucking amazing,” Kent mumbled. He felt like he was crashing from an adrenaline rush now, and he closed his eyes as he leaned into Ransom’s shoulder. “Can I tell you something?”

Ransom brushed a hand through his hair. “Sure.”

Kent didn’t know why he wanted to talk about something so humiliating right now, but the emotions of the day had wrung him out to the point that he couldn’t keep them in anymore. “It’s hard for me to trust people and, like, believe that someone nice like you would want to keep dating me. It’s hard for me. So today, like, really sucked. But you make it feel like it’s worth it.”

“You make it feel worth it too,” Ransom said quietly. “But -- why? I mean, if you want to tell me. Why is that hard for you?”

Back in Vegas, Kent had gone to a grand total of five therapy sessions before calling it quits. It hadn’t done a ton for him, but it had at least given him the ability to put certain things into words. “Long story short? Bad relationships, especially the last one. Emotionally toxic, he never said we could be exclusive but kept hinting that he wanted that but then sleeping with someone else right after. I haven’t been, you know, super optimistic about dating since then.”

There it was, out there for Ransom to use as a reason to judge him, to feel sorry for him, to laugh at him, to reevaluate him and decide he wasn’t good enough. “That guy sucks,” Ransom said. “For the record, I think you’re ridiculously easy to commit to.” He brought Kent’s hand to his heart and just looked at him, calm and quiet.

Kent could say more, about how sex made him feel, about minimizing emotions, about how he was always half-convinced he had nothing substantial to offer from the core of who he was, and that everyone who got to know him eventually found this out. He could say that with Ransom he somehow felt more scared than he ever had in his life and more convinced that there was nothing to be scared of, all at the same time. He could tell Ransom that he was way past falling in love, that he was solidly there and it hurt just as much as it felt good.

“I -- Oh, it’s past ten. Do you have to go?” Shit, it was not remotely the right time to say that he loved Ransom. Jesus. And Ransom never stayed past ten; he needed time to finish up his notes for the day and to get enough rest.

“I don’t wanna go,” Ransom said. He nosed along Kent’s neck, kissing until Kent’s eyes were fluttering, his body straining for more. “I wanna stay and make sweet love to you. But I gotta go.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Kent laughed and went in for one more hug. He wouldn’t have minded Ransom staying and making sweet love to him, if that was something that was even on the table. “I don’t want to keep you up too late. And seriously, this is one conversation you’d better write down.”

Ransom kissed him, once, careful and soft on the lips. “Text me in the morning, okay?” He kissed Kent’s hair, and it was actually a fucking miracle that Kent let him get up off the couch without just throwing himself on Ransom and climbing on his lap. “And I’ll try to record Holster’s reaction to the whole boyfriends thing. For comedic purposes.”

“I will,” Kent promised. He followed Ransom to the door, opened it for him. “Drive safe, okay? Text me when you get back?”

“Yeah.” Ransom smiled, in that dazed way that was probably all over Kent’s face too, and he hugged Kent one more time. “I’m glad I came over, Kent. I’m really lucky to, like, have you. In my life.”

Kent tilted his head back and reeled Ransom in for one last kiss. “I’m glad you came over too,” he whispered a minute later, half into Ransom’s mouth. “Don’t forget to text me.”

“I won’t,” Ransom said, and he didn’t forget.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


“Bro, I’m so happy for you,” Holster said on the first day.

“Bro, this is so tight,” Holster said on the second day.

“Bro, you’re making me, like, believe in love again,” Holster said on the third day, and Ransom wasn’t sure what he said in response. Maybe “Haha, yeah,” which was what he responded when Kent texted him later that morning. 

(**Kent** 8:46 A.M.  
Morning Rans! I’m having a great morning, hope you are too. See you tonight around 5:30?

**Ransom** 8:55 A.M.  
Haha yeah)

He was supposed to be happy now. He had a boyfriend, there was a brand new note in his Kent folder that said _Am I in love????_, and he hadn’t woken up this morning feeling cranky about the fact that he had a love life, which was apparently a new development.

But he’d been crying steadily since Holster went out for the morning, and he wasn’t even sure why. Just that he kept looking at all his different pictures of Kent and feeling a horrible twisting pain in his chest. He kept reading and rereading the long paragraphs in his notes about what he and Kent had done over the past few days, what they had said to each other, how Kent had looked at him.

“What the fuck am I doing,” Ransom said into his hands. He could feel the threat of a panic attack whispering against his ribs, and he kept his palms pressed against his face, breathing rhythmically until his mind was completely blank. But he couldn’t keep the thoughts away for long.

He had moved forward, to this place where he was allowed to call Kent his boyfriend, with a ruthless, single-minded logic that almost took his breath away now that he traced it out. A purposeful bid for stability and structure, but with all the potential cost on Kent’s shoulders. If things fell apart, Ransom would be sad for, what, a day? 

Kent was the one who could get hurt. Kent was the one who could be forgotten, who was taking a gamble every day on whether Ransom would warm up to him or treat him with hostile suspicion. And yet, Ransom knew he wasn’t going to break up with him. Part of it was because he didn’t think Kent would appreciate getting dumped for his own protection, but the real reason was that he was too selfish to do it. 

Ransom drove out to his favorite spot. Well, what he’d written down as being his favorite spot. It was hard to appreciate when the weather was so cold, when the grasses were beginning to turn brown. Ransom wasn’t sure what could be so special about one little pond, but when the path veered off into the woods he could see the appeal -- the gentle arches of tree branches drooping overhead, the gaps where he could see nature for miles around, the enormous rock that looked like it was made for sitting on.

Nothing about the spot looked familiar, but there was something about sitting on the rock, lying back and inhaling deep, that touched a deeper place in his mind. That made him feel like this was where he was supposed to be.

And then Ransom sat up.

  


  


  


  


  


  


When Kent opened the door, Ransom was momentarily taken aback by how gorgeous he was. Like, the pictures really didn’t do him justice. 

He was also, obviously, really surprised to see Ransom here just past noon instead of at Ransom’s place at five-thirty. “Ransom?” he said. “Are you okay? I mean, I’m happy to see you, but what’s up?”

“I’m great,” Ransom said. “Or at least, I’m going to be great. I got you a present.”

“Oh!” Kent’s face melted into something softer. He was already too cute for Ransom to handle, douchey American flag shorts and all. “Come in. That’s awesome.”

Ransom stepped into Kent’s house and looked around. It was cute, in an Ikea way, and very, very clean. “Damn, bro, pick up your mess,” he muttered, and Kent laughed. Then Ransom noticed a bowl of fresh strawberries on the coffee table -- that was his bowl, one he’d had since college. 

Those must have been his strawberries. Strawberries that he grew in the garden he had now. 

“Are my strawberries good?” he asked. He didn’t know why it was scaring him to ask.

Kent looked at him blankly, then followed his gaze to the table. “Oh. Yeah, dude. I have more fruits and veggies in the fridge. All your stuff is good, Rans, seriously. Do you want some?”

“Sure, babe.” He didn’t know why he tacked on the ‘babe.’ Just testing it out, seeing if it felt okay, if Kent liked it. And judging by Kent’s growing flush, he liked it. “Let’s sit down and I can show you what I got, okay?”

Kent put the strawberries on little plates with chocolate squares -- “Let’s just pretend it’s melted, haha” -- and sat with Ransom on the couch. He bent his legs up for a second before apparently changing his mind, and Ransom remembered reading in his notes that Kent liked to sit with his legs stretched out across the couch.

“Hey, here,” he said, and he patted his lap with one hand while gently guiding Kent’s ankle up with the other. It was a simple thing, probably not important by anyone else’s metric, but Ransom felt like he might actually be glowing with pride the moment that Kent relaxed into it and let his feet rest on Ransom’s lap, when he leaned his head back against the arm of the couch and smiled shyly at Ransom.

“What did you get me?” he said.

Ransom twisted the handle of the bag in his hands. This one needed some explanation. “I was thinking that we need a little more structure. Kind of. So this is kind of presumptuous, actually, and you don’t actually have to do it, but I got you some stuff that I was thinking you could use all the time so you always smell the same?”

Kent’s smile grew brighter, somehow. “That’s super fucking smart, Rans. Can I see?” 

Okay, so Kent didn’t think it was creepy or bossy that Ransom was telling him what he should smell like. That was one good thing. Ransom passed him the bag and tried not to tense up. 

“Rose vanilla,” Kent said, reading the first bottle he grabbed. “Rose vanilla,” he read off the second one. “Oh, they’re all the same. That makes sense. I’m a dumbass.”

“You’re not a dumbass,” Ransom said automatically. “Smell it, tell me if you like it. I like it. It doesn’t remind me of anyone else, at least that I can think of, and I -- I like it.”

Kent smelled it. “Yeah, Rans, I like it.” That was good, because Ransom had bought him rose vanilla scented shampoo, lotion, and fragrance, which was maybe overkill. “‘Cause scent’s connected to memory, right?”

Ransom crawled over Kent’s legs, up closer until he could get a hug. He didn’t know why he even needed a hug right now, but it immediately made him feel better. “Yeah. Like -- thanks. Thank you so much. I know it’s annoying for me to tell you what, like, shampoo to use and everything, but I honestly think it’ll help. Even though I can’t remember you with my brain, it’s kind of like I can remember you with my senses? Maybe?”

Kent held him tight, kissed the top of his head. “No, I get it. Hey, I’ll cook for you tomorrow, okay? I was going to anyway, but I’ll make you something good, something I can make every Sunday. You should try that too, right? Cooking something that you only eat with me. That’s probably another good sense to bring in, right?”

“Yeah, Kent. Yeah.” Ransom pressed his face into Kent’s shoulder. He breathed in, tried to imagine what it would feel like if just smelling Kent would bring back all the emotions he wanted. What it would be like to know that he wasn’t going to wake up one day and not be able to care about Kent anymore. 

He didn’t know if something like that could be solved with rose vanilla shampoo, but it was a start.

“Thank you for doing this,” Kent said, as serious as Ransom had ever heard him. His fingernails scratched gently across the back of Ransom’s neck.

_Of course,_ Ransom thought. You’re important. “Thank you for getting it,” he whispered back, and that was all he needed to say.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Kent had settled into his Little Haven life. He knew the names of most of the people in town, he could give tourists directions with absolute and total accuracy, and he had finally figured out what his favorite drink was at The Daily Grind.

“Hello there, Kent,” said an elderly woman at a table full of similarly silver-haired foxes as Kent stepped into the coffee shop. “Staying or going?”

“Hi, Miss Margaret,” Kent said warily. He knew her from the grocery store and the park, but he didn’t know her friends. He knew she was highly unlikely to respect his desire for a quiet, secluded table where he could drink his coffee in peace. “Not sure yet. How are you today?”

Miss Margaret just waved him off, and Kent was uncomfortably aware that she was watching him as he ordered. When everything was prepared and Kent had collected his drink and danish, Miss Margaret waved at him. “Kent, sit here,” she said. “We have questions.”

Kent smiled, a little awkward, and hoped none of the questions would be something like “How does being gay work?” He’d patiently headed off several rounds of those questions with the old men who played chess at the park, and while it was a weirdly pleasant conversation, given the topic -- everything in this town was weirdly pleasant -- he wasn’t in the mood to go there again. “Sure, Miss Margaret. But only if you introduce me to your friends.”

The trio of older ladies were delighted. Miss Margaret introduced Kent to Miss Beatrice and Miss Althea. “It’s ‘Miss’,” Miss Beatrice said, “so the gentlemen know we’re available.”

“Oh, of course.”

Miss Margaret placed one speckled hand on top of Kent’s. “Now, dear, we need to check some information with you. Is it true you’ve been seeing Justin?”

“Uh.” Kent was pretty sure she was asking because she liked the idea. Probably. “Yeah. We just started. Like, dating?”

“Oh, marvelous,” Miss Althea said. “He’s such a tasty young man.”

“Althea, hush, you’re scaring him. Kent, you have to tell us everything. How did the two of you meet? And this is a romantic relationship, I presume, not one of those no-strings affairs the young people are doing these days?” 

Kent became aware that several tables around them had paused their conversations to listen in. “Um. Should I call a town meeting so everyone can hear?”

“Or update your Instagram,” said the man at the next table over. Kent was pretty sure he was a plumber. “We check it all the time, and no new information. Don’t millennials like social media?”

Kent was momentarily offended on his cats’ behalf, but he supposed the locals weren’t checking his Insta just to see pics of Kitty and Purrsephone. “Sorry? I didn’t know everyone wanted to know that stuff.”

“Poor thing,” Miss Margaret said. “This must all be so overwhelming. Now tell us everything.”

By the time Kent left, he was carrying a bag of several more danishes that had been purchased as a reward for -- making Ransom happy? He wasn’t really sure, but he knew everyone was way too invested in his dating life, and that most of them seemed particularly attached to Ransom’s emotional fulfillment, if the way all three Misses at his table had wiped their eyes when Kent confirmed that Ransom was happy was any indication.

_I just got grilled so hard about me and Ransom’s relationship???_ he texted Holster. _Do these people not have Netflix or something? They seriously need more entertainment options._

_Please I deal w this every day,_ Holster sent back immediately. _And can you update your Instagram? That would make my life so much easier._

_???_

_Once every three days would be nice._

Kent could live with that, he thought, and ate one of his danishes. Maybe it was time he shared a little more about his love life. 

He updated his cats’ Instagram first, though. He knew his priorities.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


He took Monday off work and spent the day with Ransom. They made waffles together, listening through their shared playlist. Ransom didn’t think he knew any of the songs, but he was able to hum along pretty quickly. 

“Hey,” Ransom said, nudging Kent with his foot under the table as they finished up their breakfast. “I’m supposed to practice the piano today. Doctor’s orders. You wanna stick around for that, or do you have errands or something to take care of? It’ll probably be pretty boring for you.”

Kent was pretty sure he could watch Ransom do sudoku puzzles for hours without getting bored. “No, I’ll stay. I kinda want to see, actually.”

“Sure.” Ransom’s smile was as warm and inviting as ever. Kent wanted to get wrapped up in him, to distract him from all the things he was supposed to do today, but instead he pulled up a chair near the piano so he could watch without getting in Ransom’s way.

The sheet music Ransom was going to use was interesting -- it began with an instructional diagram, where to place his fingers on the keys, numbers corresponding to different fingers, and the notes at the beginning of the song had numbers above them to tell Ransom which finger to use. But after the first few lines, the number markings above the notes disappeared. 

“Apparently I’m going to figure out how to play the piano by then,” Ransom said. “Supposedly. I don’t know.”

“You never played before your accident, right?”

Ransom shook his head. “Not at all, so don’t judge me if I suck.”

Kent stretched his toes out to touch one leg of the piano stool. Ransom wouldn’t be able to see it from where he was sitting, but it was the only comforting thing Kent could think to do. “No, Rans, I just want to be here.”

It took a few minutes for Ransom to begin -- he studied the diagram at the beginning, played the first few bars over and over until he knew he was doing it right -- but after a shaky first ten seconds or so, the Ransom who didn’t know how to play piano melted away. His fingers moved easily across the keys; the frustration on his face softened into a quiet focus; his back straightened up and his shoulders relaxed. 

The music was beautiful. Ransom was beautiful. Kent wanted to be here every time he played.

“Woah,” Ransom said, as soon as he was done. “Woah. I -- uh --” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. I need more coffee.”

Kent was in love with him. “I’ll make some more.” He got up and squeezed Ransom’s shoulders on his way past. “I gotcha.”

Ransom rested his hand on top of Kent’s for a second. He felt steady and warm, and Kent couldn’t breathe for a second from how much he wanted to be with him, to keep finding new ways to be with him. “Appreciate it.”

Kent was in love with him.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Ransom had an experiment he was working on. He hadn’t really told anybody. 

Whenever he drove from his place to Kent’s -- and that was several times a week now -- he plugged Kent’s address into his phone but didn’t start the directions. He just backed out of the driveway and went somewhere. 

He’d never made it to Kent’s house. Sometimes he ended up in the middle of nowhere. Two times he had left Little Haven altogether. Sometimes he found himself close to other places that he typically frequented, like the children’s theatre or his favorite restaurant. 

But lately, he’d been within a few blocks of Kent’s house every time he gave up and finally turned on the GPS. And that was -- exciting. Exhilarating. The kind of thing that made him break out in goosebumps, honestly. 

“Hey, babe,” he said when Kent opened the door. It felt kind of weird, that word leaving his mouth for a guy he’d only met that day, but they’d texted earlier, and Ransom had watched some videos in his Kent folder, and it didn’t feel as weird as it probably should. 

“Hey,” Kent said. He was so damn hot. Ransom knew that already, but it was kind of overwhelming seeing it in person. “Do you wanna come in?”

Ransom stepped in and immediately noticed that he wanted to kiss Kent, so he did. He only had today to do it, after all. It was so much better than he thought it would be -- backing Kent against the wall, how warm he was, how good he smelled. The way his ribcage moved under Ransom’s hands. 

“I missed you,” Kent murmured into Ransom’s neck as they pulled apart to breathe. 

“I missed you, too.” Ransom didn’t know if it was true, or if it was even possible for it to be true, but he wanted to say it anyway.

Something smelled good, something besides Kent, and Ransom pulled away more to sniff the air. “Is that dinner? Oh my god, it smells so good.” 

“Yeah, man, let’s go in the kitchen.” Kent kissed Ransom’s shoulder, just once, and gently pushed him back. “I’m making your favorite.”

“I know what you’re making. I mean, it’s the same every Sunday, right? Is meatloaf actually my favorite now?” He’d never really had meatloaf before. His family never made it, Bitty never made it, and it never really seemed like that interesting of a food. 

“It will be in five minutes.”

And, like, that was probably true. Ransom had read through his files enough to know he was crazy about Sunday dinner, and this was what Kent had decided to make for them every Sunday. He was still going to give Kent a hard time about it, though. “We’ll see. I have a lot of feelings about the Taco Bell dollar menu that I’m not sure you’ll be able to compete with.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Kent laughed, and he got Ransom sitting at the kitchen table so he could get in Ransom’s lap and make out for a few minutes before the oven timer went off. “Rans, let go, I gotta get that.”

Ransom liked where his arms were, wound tight around Kent so he couldn’t get up, but he also liked food that wasn’t burned. It was still a sacrifice to let go, and he made sure Kent knew that. “Please hurry. For the love of God.”

Kent snickered. “Fuck off, god. Culinary masterpieces take time.”

Ransom waited -- impatiently, with intermittent whines of “I’m so cold… so alone…” -- as Kent plated the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and asparagus. It smelled fucking amazing, and the only thing that made Kent lose focus enough to look up and laugh at Ransom was when Ransom’s stomach growled audibly.

“Do you want wine with dinner?” Kent asked. “I’m having a glass.”

“Sure. Just a little.”

Kent brought the plates to the table and poured the wine. “Hey,” he said. He sounded excited, but almost uncertain about it. “Look what I got.” He put an unopened candle down on the table in front of Ransom.

“Awesome, very romantic,” Ransom said. When Kent didn’t respond, Ransom looked at the candle again. “Oh! Rose vanilla. Aw, Kent, that’s perfect. Light it up.”

They sat next to each other instead of across from each other, which was nice. Ransom thought it would be sweet to hold hands or something, but as soon as he took his first bite of meatloaf he knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Holy shit,” he said. “Holy shit.”

Kent smirked at him.

Ransom was at a fucking loss for words. For thoughts. He didn’t understand, like -- how could something he had no memory of ever eating before taste like home? “Kent, this is so good, like….” He had no idea what he could even say. “Oh my god, I love you.”

He froze, meatloaf stuck on his tongue. It still tasted good. Kent was frozen too, his fork in the air almost comically. 

He was so cute. It was insane how cute he was.

“Thanks?” Kent said.

“Oh my god,” Ransom said. 

Kent put his fork down. “Hey, it’s cool, Rans. I know you’re just talking about the food, don’t freak out --”

“No.” Ransom kind of felt like his body was floating. It was distracting. “I mean it. Like, I think I mean it. Oh my god.” 

Kent exhaled, hard. “Oh. Oh, I --”

“Am I crying?” Ransom swallowed his food. “Why am I crying?”

“Rans, I love you too.” Kent scooted his chair so close to Ransom’s that they were touching. He pulled at Ransom’s elbow until Ransom draped himself over Kent, which was a good idea because it was actually super calming. “I love you too. It’s okay.”

Ransom breathed in deep, smelling all the rose vanilla he could until his brain felt settled. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” he mumbled. “I’m really happy.”

Kent pressed his hand against the back of Ransom’s head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You make me really happy.” 

Kent leaned back so he could wipe at Ransom’s face. “Yeah?”

Ransom closed his eyes and just let himself feel Kent’s hands on him. He didn’t know how a person could be expected to write all this down. He didn’t know what to tell himself for tomorrow. But he let himself feel it. “Yeah.”

Their dinner was cold by the time they were ready to eat again, but it tasted almost as good out of the microwave. 

“I love you,” Ransom said again at the door. He hadn’t said that to anyone before, not in a romantic way, and it was still kind of tempting to run and hide. But he stayed long enough to see the look on Kent’s face, to kiss him in the doorway for a few minutes, and in the end he said it twice more before leaving.

He was a mess. It was awesome.


	5. Chapter 5

Kent had a half-hour window before work every morning when he stopped over at Ransom’s house and joined him for breakfast. He never knew for sure where Ransom’s head would be at, so early in the morning when everything was still processing, but that was why Kent texted first to make sure it was okay. Lately, it always was. Kent barely worried about it anymore.

That was on a normal day. Not the day after Ransom said “I love you” for the first time. For the first time, four times. 

And, like, Kent had absolutely danced around his house like Hugh Grant in Love Actually after Ransom left. It had been a beautiful, perfect, amazing night. He had texted Ransom before bed just to check in, and that had been amazing too. 

But today was a new day. Anything could happen.

He clicked his phone screen on and off for a few minutes, just trying to work up the courage to send Ransom their morning text. This was -- they’d never _had_ a morning like this before. Kent didn’t know how much he should address it. Maybe he shouldn’t address it at all until they were talking in-person.

**Kent** 7:36 A.M.  
Should I come over now, or do you need some time?

**Ransom** 7:37 A.M.  
Come over!!! *sparkly heart emoji*

**Ransom** 7:39 A.M.  
Are you okay?

Kent wasn’t sure if he was okay. He needed to find out if Ransom regretted last night first. But that was weird to talk about over text, especially when Ransom’s perception of things was that they hadn’t even met face-to-face yet. 

**Kent** 7:42 A.M.  
Yeah!! I’ll be over in ten. *smiling emoji*

  


  


  


  


  


  


Really, he was over in six. Kent would never deny that he was the eager kind. “Hey!” he said with a brightness that was slightly manufactured as soon as Ransom let him in. “How are you doing?”

Ransom looked good. Like, his appearance was never anything but good, but he looked happy and calm. “I’m doing so good. I made a really good breakfast today, you’re gonna be so impressed.”

“Okay,” Kent said, smiling. Ransom’s energy was infectious, and he was almost able to forget his anxieties as he walked in and pulled his shoes off. “Mm, that does smell good. Eggs?”

“Omelettes.” Ransom looked nervous for a few seconds, which Kent didn’t understand until Ransom carefully slid an arm around Kent’s waist. It was a gesture that could have felt like the easiest, most natural way to express affection, but there was too much tension in Ransom’s body for it to quite work. “Hey. About last night.”

Kent went tense then, which meant they were cuddling each other about as awkwardly as two people could cuddle. “Yeah. I mean -- yeah. Hey, it’s okay if you don’t --”

“I just met you, like, a minute ago,” Ransom said in a rush. He squeezed Kent’s shoulder. “So I’m not trying to say I feel the same way right now. But I meant it last night. And I think I’ll mean it again the next time I say it. I think there’ll be a next time.”

Kent couldn’t speak, so he just turned against Ransom’s body and hugged him. 

“Omelette’s gonna burn,” Ransom said, suddenly breaking away. “Let’s get that taken care of and then get all snuggly on the couch, okay?”

“Okay,” Kent said, and he wasn’t totally sure he believed it, but he didn’t even get to finish eating his omelette before Ransom was pulling Kent onto his lap, and by the time Kent’s alarm went off for Kent to leave for work, they were both completely out of breath. Ransom kissed him all the way to the door, Kent walking backward and letting himself be guided by Ransom’s fingers in his belt loops. 

“I’ll miss you,” Ransom said hoarsely, his teeth catching on Kent’s mouth as he spoke, and Kent shivered even though his whole body was as warm as it had ever been.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


“Bro,” Troy said. “My aunt and uncle got a divorce. Family reunion’s cancelled. Guess who has five vacation days next summer that aren’t gonna be wasted on a trip to Wisconsin this time?”

Kent was soaking his feet in hot water, lavender, and epsom salt, because he was feeling fancy like that. “Broooo. You’re celebrating your family members’ divorce. You’re such a dick. I love you.”

“It was inevitable, I’ve been over it for like ten years. And I love you too. What month works for you?”

Kent checked his mental calendar. “July. Come pamper me for my birthday.”

“Will do. Have you indoctrinated the whole town into the cult of Kent Parson yet?”

“I don’t know what alternate reality you’re living in where something like that is even possible. And yes.” Kent adjusted his phone and tried to weigh the pros and cons of telling Troy everything without creating a suspicious pause in the conversation. “Hey, uh. I told you I’m dating someone.”

“Yeah? How’s that going?” Troy immediately sounded a whole foot taller than he had a moment earlier. Like a shotgun and shovel had magically materialized in his hand. Which, like, fair. “I swear to God if you don’t finally give me his Instagram or Twitter or _something_ I’m going to sneak over there and steal your cats while you’re out of the house. Let’s go, Parser.”

Kent’s words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell himself he was being protective of Ransom, but that wasn’t really true, was it? He still was afraid, not so deep down, that if his family and friends knew about this relationship they would feel sorry for him, or they’d think Ransom was only with Kent because he couldn’t hold onto his memories long enough to know the real Kent.

And, shit. That was something he needed to work on for himself.

“I told you his name’s Justin. Are you seriously trying to tell me your Facebook stalking skills have slacked off that much? There’s, like, two Justins in this whole town. Come on, bro.” 

There was a long pause. “...Oh,” Troy said.

“Seriously, man? You really never thought of that?”

“What can I say, Parse. I’ve lost my touch in my old age. But don’t worry, I’ll find him.”

Kent tried to tell himself this wasn’t scary. It wasn’t even like Ransom’s social media was some inspiration trap with a bunch of long posts about what life was like with anterograde amnesia. It was mostly just fun, light stuff about his daily life. But Kent knew that if Troy dug enough, he’d find something. “I mean, just so you know. Things with Justin and I -- we’ve gotten a lot more serious lately. Just so you know.”

“Serious?” Troy repeated. He sounded like he thought Kent was trying to hide an elopement or something. “What does that mean?”

“Just, you know. We did the whole _I love you_ thing.” Kent took a deep breath. “And he -- he has a brain thing. Just so you know.”

“A brain thing?” Troy sounded all freaked out. “Like --?”

Kent realized he’d kind of made it sound like Ransom had cancer or something. “Sorry, man, I’m super bad at this. Like, a traumatic brain injury? In an accident? He, like --” Fuck, fuck, he had actually no idea how to explain Ransom’s amnesia without making their relationship sound really questionable. Which was stupid, because he loved their relationship. Christ. “Sorry, I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll find it if you look, though. I’m just saying, things are serious and we’re really happy. Just so you know.” 

“Kent, that’s awesome. Not the brain injury, the relationship. And you sound like you’re losing your mind over this conversation, so, like, do you want to talk about something totally different?”

Kent thanked the universe for Jeff Troy. For, like, the millionth time. “Yeah. Did I tell you I started a cozy mystery series? Like, about people kidnapping cats and holding them for cat-ransom, and the person who owns them is slowly falling in love with this guy, except it’s like a forbidden love because he’s not a cat person?”

“Parser, did I ever tell you how much I want to kill you?”

“Troy, I absolutely can’t wait to tell you that I got through all four books in one week.”

The sound of Troy swearing at him was weirdly comforting. Kent stretched his toes in the water and relaxed.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Ransom knew he was almost an hour late to Kent’s house. He felt bad, sort of, for inconveniencing Kent like this, but he mostly felt pissed off. Pissed off, and sorry for himself.

“Are you okay?” Kent asked. He was standing outside Ransom’s car window, waiting on the driveway. Ransom hadn’t noticed him there. “I called Holster, he said you left an hour ago. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s fucking wrong.” Ransom tried to take a deep breath and be nice, but everything in him felt hot in the worst way. “I’ve driven here a hundred times. Can’t I try it without GPS once in awhile?”

Kent was quiet. Maybe he knew. Holster needed to learn to keep his mouth shut.

“It doesn’t matter, whatever. Even when I use the GPS it’s confusing and fucking --” Ransom covered his face with his hands. “Holster already told you, didn’t he?”

The car door opened with a quiet click. Kent was so close, but he wasn’t touching Ransom. God, Ransom wished he would. It had been hours since they’d talked that morning. “He just said you were disappointed about not getting a job. I don’t know anything else.” 

Ransom sagged back against his seat. He was never going anywhere. There wasn’t any point pretending otherwise. “I can’t do anything. In order to work, or be independent at all, having an actual functioning brain is pretty much the bare minimum. I’m gonna leech off Holster for the rest of my life.”

“Rans, that’s not true.”

“What, you want me to start leeching off you instead? I’m not good enough to do anything else anymore.” Ransom covered his face one more time, took five deep breaths through his hands, and told himself to be an adult. “Sorry. What do you want to do? You said there’s an antique shop we could check out?”

Kent touched Ransom’s shoulder as he climbed out of the car. “That was before. Come in, let’s order in and talk about it. Or order in and watch Netflix if you don’t want to talk about it.”

That was really tempting, especially since Ransom’s notes had made it clear that “watch Netflix” was code for “fool around”. But not letting Kent talk about this stuff with him wasn’t great either. Ransom didn’t want this relationship to just be one more thing he failed at. “Yeah, let’s order in. I’m not hungry, but by the time it gets here I’m sure I will be.”

When their food arrived, Ransom’s appetite was still missing. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want this to be his life. Like, it was bad enough waking up and finding out that he was living in the middle of nowhere, mooching off Holster’s nice job, far away from his other friends and with a big fat nothing where the past two years were supposed to be and a guarantee that he had no future, or at least no way to stay in his own mind long enough to ever see his future. 

All that was bad enough, but now he had to deal with the fact that he’d been rejected from a delivery truck company. He never thought he’d be the guy whose life plans hinged on working as a driver. He never thought he’d be the guy who couldn’t even manage that.

“I’m sorry,” Kent said. “This fucking sucks. Is there, like, a discrimination thing you can look into? There’s gotta be, right?”

“I can’t do the job, Kent. Not with accomodations, not without them. I can’t do anything.”

“Hey --” Kent started, but Ransom shook him off. Kent obviously got the message, because he started over. “Can you eat your dinner? Because if you don’t, I’m stealing your wings.”

Ransom laughed. He didn’t even know if it was fake or real. “I’ll eat a little. Sorry, I’m just too upset to be hungry. You look gorgeous, did I tell you that?”

“No, but thank you.” Kent leaned in and kissed him. Ransom melted into it, one second, two seconds of his worries floating away, but then they came flooding back. “Did I tell you that you’re not finding a job right now because you’re looking too small?”

“Huh?” Ransom knew Kent was trying to help, but he didn’t want to hear this. “I’m looking for jobs that fit what I’m capable of doing now, Kent. I can’t carry things over from one day to another.”

“No, but you still remember everything from med school. You still have the ability to manipulate numbers and do things with a spreadsheet that most companies have to train their employees to do. Even if it’s not full-time, I bet there’s something you could do with that. Hell, you could be the one doing trainings for spreadsheet stuff. My work needs something like that right now.”

Ransom smiled. It felt fake and stretched out, so he leaned in for a long hug to distract Kent. “Thanks, man. I’ll think about it.”

“It’s okay,” Kent said quietly. He ran his hand over the back of Ransom’s neck, slow and careful. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah.” Ransom forced his muscles to relax. Kent was sweet, and he smelled good, and he was a good boyfriend. It wasn’t his fault that nothing he was saying was making Ransom feel better. “Hey, can we watch Netflix?”

Kent squeezed Ransom’s neck. “Yeah, babe.”

Ransom closed his eyes.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


“I think you should come over,” Holster said, his voice raspy over the phone.

“He isn’t texting me back. I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

“It’s a great idea. You make him happy, and I didn’t get any sleep last night so I’m losing my mind. Come on, it’ll be fine.”

Kent hadn’t heard from Ransom that morning, either. It had only been two days since they’d last spent time together, but every ignored text Kent sent felt like ice down his back. “If it’s fine, why are you whispering?”

“Because he’s freaking out and I don’t want him to hear me,” Holster hissed. “I’ve been with him all day, I can’t do this anymore. Look, if you come over and help me cook something, he might calm down. You calm him down. And if it’s not going well, you can leave. Okay? Please?”

Kent wanted to see Ransom, but this seemed like a bad plan. “Holster, if he’s not texting me back, I’m respecting that. He’ll let me know when he’s ready.”

“Kent, I need you to come over,” Holster repeated. His voice sounded thicker, and Kent tightened his fingers around his phone at the unexpected emotion. “He needs someone to be with him, and I can’t be that person anymore. I’m tired.” 

Maybe Kent had an unexpected soft spot for Adam Birkholtz, or maybe he was just selfish and wanted to see Ransom. No matter the reason, he pulled into Ransom and Holster’s driveway fifteen minutes later. He debated ringing the doorbell, texting Holster, or maybe just driving away. In the end, he let himself into the house.

“Hi, hello, I’m gonna cry,” Holster said, jumping down the stairs and practically unzipping Kent’s coat himself. “We’re just gonna make mac n’ cheese. It’s gonna be great. Rans loves mac n’ cheese.” 

Kent patted Holster on the back until the possibility of Holster breaking down in tears seemed less imminent. “Does he know I’m here?”

A look of guilt flashed across Holster’s face. “Kind of. I told him like two minutes ago that I’d invited you.”

The floorboards creaked, and Kent looked up to see Ransom shifting out of sight from the top of the staircase. “Should I go talk to him? What’s going on?” 

Holster grabbed Kent’s arm and walked him into the kitchen. “I told you. First, food. We’ll do the talking part later. Stop dragging your feet, let’s go.”

When the water was finally boiling, Holster sat down at the kitchen counter and let his head fall down to the countertop. “Ow. So, basically, Ransom is having a bad day. Again. I can’t do this many bad days in a row. He can’t get over the basics of his situation and move on to actually experience his day. All he wants to do is stay in bed and call his family and old friends, and if they don’t answer he starts, like, crying and sometimes leaving voicemails where he yells at them. And then he yells at me. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Just make the food, it’s okay. I’m going upstairs.”

Holster looked freaked out. “Kent, no --”

“Come on, man. If he doesn’t want me here, I shouldn’t be here. I just need to go talk to him.”

“Yeah, I know.” Holster looked down at his hands. “I just don’t want to deal with it alone anymore. Sorry. You do what you need to do.”

Kent squeezed his shoulder and left the kitchen. He walked up the stairs slowly, moving so quietly that Ransom probably wouldn’t hear him, until he realized he shouldn’t sneak up on Ransom and started letting his feet fall harder. 

“Rans?” he called when he got to the top of the stairs. “I’m guessing you’re in your room? I’m coming in, so say something if you don’t want me to.” 

Just as he was about to push open the door, he heard Ransom’s voice from down the hall. “I’m in Holster’s room. Actually.”

Kent paused, then rerouted. “Hey,” he said softly as he opened the door. Ransom was sprawled out under a messy pile of blankets, a jumbo-size Cheetos bag empty next to him. His eyes were swollen from crying and there was a drinking glass tipped over on the floor, water soaking into the carpet. Kent’s chest got warmer and painfully tighter all at once.

“So I guess you’re my lover?” Ransom said drily. The casualness of it felt forced. “Holster needs a break from me. If you want to play Parcheesi with him -- or, I don’t know. Maybe there’s a new game he likes better now.” Ransom’s expression clouded.

“I’m sorry for coming over like this. Holster wanted me to check on you. He doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better. He thought I could help.”

Ransom kicked at his blankets. “I don’t know. I don’t know you. Sorry, but talking to some guy I’ve never met before isn’t going to make me feel better --” And just like that, his snappishness changed to crying. Silent, shaking little sobs that wracked his shoulders and twisted Kent’s gut. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not --”

Kent moved forward, automatically, but he stopped by Ransom’s bed. “Rans. Hey, hey, you’re right. You’re right, it’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t _want_ you here!” Ransom yelled, still crying. “Stop, I’m so -- I want to yell at someone, I’ve been yelling at Holster all day. My mom. I don’t want to yell at you too, I don’t know you, you’re my boyfriend. Just go away.”

“I’m going. Sorry, I’m sorry for showing up like this. Sorry.” Kent shut the door behind him quietly and stood in the hallway for a few minutes until he felt okay. He had to leave. He didn’t want to leave Holster alone, especially when Holster never asked for help like this, but he had to.

Holster took one look at him when Kent came back to the kitchen and wilted. “Okay. Not good? Please don’t go, he’ll change his mind after some mac n’ cheese --”

“I gotta go, dude. Rans just wants to be with people he remembers, and I’m respecting that. Put some peas in there.”

“Huh?”

“He’s weird, he likes it better with peas in it.” Kent went to grab his coat. He felt shaky, like his fingers were connected to someone else’s body. “Sorry, man. I wish I could help you more. Just -- tomorrow’s another day, right?”

Holster rubbed his eyes. “That’s what I keep saying to myself. So far, tomorrow’s just been more of the same. I mean -- thanks. Thanks for trying. We’ll be fine.”

Kent breathed in deeply, or tried to, one more time. “Tell him I’m not mad, okay? I get it. We’re okay. I just -- he needs me to go. Okay?”

He didn’t know if they were okay. He didn’t know how Ransom would wake up tomorrow, or the next day, if he’d ever even care about being with Kent again. 

He tried to breathe in deeply again, but it sounded more like a sob.

“Yeah, I know. He’ll know. It’s cool, Kent, I get why you gotta go. I’ll just -- take breaks. Jersey Shore. And, yeah, tomorrow’s another day.”

Kent sat in the driveway for several minutes, not ready to start his truck. Not ready to leave. He didn’t know when he’d be here again. He didn’t know if he’d ever be here again. 

He started his truck. He drove away.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**Wake up!**

Hey Rans. It’s me, you. You’re probably feeling really confused and disoriented about what you’re doing in this house, but you didn’t get really drunk or anything like that. You have a TBI from a car accident on August 16, 2019, and you’ve been experiencing anterograde amnesia ever since. It’s been two years, but you’re doing okay. You have a bunch of files on your phone that tell you everything you could possibly want to know about your daily life, the people you know, and your goals, but it’s a better idea to talk to Holtzy before you get sucked down that rabbit hole. Mom, Dad, and Catherine are also available if you want to call them and talk. They talk to you all the time, but everyone (including you) decided it’s better for you to live here. You’re living in Little Haven with Holster. The population is less than 900, which means everyone around here knows your situation and will help you out if you get confused, and it’s the same place where you were on vacation right before your accident, so it helps you feel less disoriented. Kind of. 

Today, Holster is going to make a super fancy brunch for you, and then you’ll video call Mom and Dad for some quality time together. It’s been one of your goals for a while to work on finding a job, which not gonna lie has been tough given your amnesia, but the plan is that you’ll look through your career folder around lunchtime and spend an hour or two seeing what progress you can make. If you want to get out in the town and have some space alone in nature, you have a file called Where to Go on here that will show you what the best places are when you want alone time.

Holster knows you’re up, because you’re on the same alarm clock time, and he’s gonna burst through the door in like one minute. You’re having a weird week right now where you spend a ton of time obsessing over all your files in the morning, which is really unusual for you and has been getting in the way of living your life and being okay, so Holster’s gonna probably confiscate your phone until after brunch, so now’s your chance to hide it. Go go go!!!

P.S. When you have time later in the day, look at your Kent folder. Idk what else to say about that.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Ransom was still clutching his phone when Holster knocked twice at his door and let himself into the room. He read the words over and over, but he didn’t want to believe them.

“Is this a joke?” he asked. His voice sounded funny.

Holtzy bounced onto his bed and stretched out next to him. “Here, let me hold it.” Ransom handed over the phone without thinking about it. “It’s real. I’m sorry.”

Holster was looking at Ransom like he expected him to cry, but Ransom just felt numb. “So I -- I’m just living here? Doing nothing?”

“No, Rans, you’re doing all kinds of cool shit. You volunteer with kids and grow vegetables and can play a bunch of songs on the piano.”

“No, I can’t,” Ransom mumbled, but that wasn’t really important. “And who’s Kent? A person?”

Holster’s face went slack with surprise. “Hey, I said not to mention him in your wake up note. Come on, dude.” He let out a huge breath and looked up at the ceiling, then back at Ransom. “He’s a guy you’ve been seeing. He’s cool, I like him. But we can talk about stuff like that later. My plan was we can cuddle for awhile, then go downstairs and get you some fancy coffee, and I’ll make brunch. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, hash browns, blueberries, raspberries, strawberries.”

“Dude,” Ransom said, impressed despite himself.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Holster joked. “Now hand me that pillow, bro. We’re snuggling.”

The cuddling was nice, and the coffee tasted expensive, and the brunch was all the proof Ransom needed that years had passed between the Holster he remembered and what things were like now, because the old Holster would never have been able to cook that well. But he couldn’t quite settle down, and he could see Holster shooting him a bunch of worried looks.

“Wait, sorry,” Ransom finally said, and Holster immediately put his fork down. “Who exactly is Kent? Is it casual? Is he, like, my sweetheart? How am I supposed to do all this stuff when I don’t even know if I’m single or not?”

Holster looked cornered. Ransom didn’t feel bad. “Let’s -- can we talk about this after the dishes are washed, at least? Sorry, Rans, but this week has been rough. It’s been hard for you to adjust to so much new info right away, I don’t know why. I mean, no, I get that it’s a lot, but before this you were, like, crazy resilient and got into the swing of things super fast. You’re just having a hard week, please let me do the dishes before I overwhelm you with things.”

Ransom’s heart was beating fast. “What things? Is he dying? Did he cheat on me? Did I cheat on him? Are we engaged? Are --”

“Rans, please. Please. Let me do this dishes. And no, nothing super dramatic is going on there. You just -- it’s hard for you to learn everything all at once, okay? It’s hard for you to wrap your mind around having a boyfriend you don’t know anything about. It’s been hard this week, anyway. Now I’m doing the dishes.”

“I’ll dry,” Ransom said. It was more a gesture than anything, but he was starting to process the degree to which Holster must take care of him, and he felt bad that he was letting Holster cook for him on top of all that. “Come on, you can tell me later.”

“Later” turned out to be two hours later, because Ransom’s parents called earlier than he had expected, and they ended up talking for a long time. Ransom felt good, looser and happier, when the conversation was over, even if a good twenty minutes of it had been Holster debating with Ransom’s dad about the best movies of the year, none of which Ransom had ever heard of. 

Then when the video call was over, Ransom needed some time to decompress and scroll through his sister’s Instagram. Holster started answering some work emails, and when Ransom saw that he was completely distracted, he found the Kent folder on his phone.

“So,” he said ten minutes later, “we’re fighting or something? Is he okay?”

Holster looked up, frazzled and distracted. “Huh? Oh, shit, what are you doing? Kent again?”

“Yeah. Why do I sound like such a dick in these? Have you talked to him about it?”

“Yeah, he gets it. You’re just having a tough week, I told you.” Holster shut his laptop and moved over to sit by Ransom. “Okay, so we’re talking about this now. What do you want to know?”

Ransom didn’t know what he wanted to know. “Why?” he ended up saying. “Why would you let me do this?”

“Rans, you’re an adult. I can’t just --”

“What’s wrong with me? I told him I loved him. Like, a bunch of times. I clearly can’t even handle my own shit, what am I doing trying to take on someone else’s?”

Holster gently took the phone out of Ransom’s hand. “You’re dating him. That’s what you’re doing. Like, every relationship has rough patches, and yeah, yours are a little rougher than most because of, you know, the amnesia, but --”

“I’m hurting him,” Ransom choked out. “Like, I don’t know who the hell he is, but all I have to do is read this to know I was super in love with him. Why am I putting him through this? I’m supposed to care about him, why am I dating him?”

Holster frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re perfect, bro. You’re not, like, a burden for anyone. Not for me, not for Kent. You’re having a rough fucking week, and with your amnesia that just looks different from what someone else’s rough week looks like. Kent is okay. He loves you and he loves being with you.”

And shit, now Ransom was crying. Fucking Holster and his speeches. “I know, Holtzy, I can see how much he loves me. But -- what am I doing? I can’t guarantee him that things won’t change. I might tell him I love him and then not feel that way again for weeks. That’s fucked up, I shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Holster rubbed carefully at Ransom’s back. “Bro, it’s been a couple years now, figuring out what your new life will look like and what you can do to be happy. This thing with Kent, it was a big change. And it’s the happiest I’ve seen you. Just -- text him today. Talk to him. You don’t know what’s going to happen any more than I do, so let’s cool it with the catastrophic thinking and just give things a chance, okay?”

Ransom hadn’t wanted a boyfriend before; he didn’t know why he suddenly wanted one now, why it felt so important to keep him despite all this shit. “Okay.” He didn’t know why he felt so invested in Kent’s feelings today when it sounded like he hadn’t cared at all for the past few days.

He didn’t know how he would feel tomorrow. He would never know. And that was so fucking scary.

“Yeah, I’ll text him,” he said. “I’ll see what happens.”

“‘Swawesome,” Holster said. He grinned. And -- he would never understand what this was like, Ransom thought. 

And that was okay. Ransom needed to figure this one out on his own. “Yeah, dude,” he said. “Now get out of my face so I can take some motherfucking career aptitude tests.”

He took a test. He took half of another. He texted Kent and set up a date for tomorrow.

He didn’t know what he was doing. But maybe he’d figure it out.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Birds were singing obnoxiously outside Ransom’s window, the temperature outside was summer-warm even though it was getting closer and closer to winter, and when he opened his notes and read about the issues he’d had in his relationship with Kent over the past week, he felt motivated instead of hopeless. 

“Look who’s so chipper before his date,” Holster said as he watched Ransom get his shoes on. “Do you have water? Condoms? Snacks?”

“I’m good to go,” Ransom said. “And quit being nosy, man, god. You need a girlfriend.”

“I need to get laid,” Holster said sadly. “All the girls in this town are wise to my ways.”

Ransom shook his head. “Interesting take, man, but Kent’s here. Have fun with your loneliness, I’ll be with my mans.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you. Have fun.”

Ransom gave Holster a quick knucks and ran out to meet Kent. “Hey, what’s up,” he said, as Kent hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Oh, look at you. Is it weird to kiss you?”

“Please do,” Kent laughed, and Ransom was surprised at how easy it was. He couldn’t help but stretch it out longer than was probably normal for a first kiss, but it already wasn’t normal to kiss someone on your first meeting, so what the hell. 

He pulled away, hands still at Kent’s sides. Kent let his head fall back, smiling up at Ransom like none of the bad stuff Ransom had read about in his notes had ever happened. 

“Where to, driver?” Ransom asked, nudging down a little so his nose bumped Kent’s forehead. It was so much better than he’d let himself hope it would be, meeting Kent for the first time. He smelled good. 

“I was thinking --” Kent started, but Ransom kissed him again, and Kent let him. 

“You know what,” Ransom said, finally breaking away. His heart was racing. What the hell, why was his surprise boyfriend so cute and perfect? “Surprise me.”

They drove to the woods, where abandoned farms had been turned into animal rescues. “I don’t think you ever come out here,” Kent said as he parked in the grass. “You should, it’s tight. There’s kitties and deer and stuff.”

Ransom laughed, giddy, partly because he was pretty sure the word “tight” hadn’t come back in the two years since his accident. “This is a great idea, babe, thanks.”

“Aw, no problem _babe_,” Kent repeated, which was kind of how Ransom became aware that he’d said that. “Thanks. Plus if we’re feeling like real dumbasses, there are these trees out back that are good for climbing. What do you think?”

He thought it was scarily easy to fall in love with Kent in one day. “I’m game. Kiss for good luck?”

Kent didn’t ask what good luck they needed to play with farm cats, just leaned in. This one was soft, quiet, and Ransom ruffled his fingers through Kent’s hair when he sat back. “You’re --” Kent blinked, licked his lips. “I’m happy you’re here. And you’re feeling better.” He messed with his hair for a second. “Uh. Yeah. Whatever.”

“Me too.” Ransom grabbed Kent’s hand for a second, then let go. “I’m really -- do you wanna go see the cats?”

Kent leaned up and kissed him again, something about it almost teasing. “Yep. And then I wanna climb a tree higher than you can.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re tiny --”

“Hey!” Kent was laughing, and Ransom’s eyes stuttered across the freckles on his nose, the blue-green of his eyes, the perfect span of his chest. “I love you, but watch it.”

Ransom stopped moving. He let the words fall over him, listened to himself to see how they made him feel.

“I’m -- shit. Sorry. I know it’s not cool to say that so early in the day, sorry --”

Ransom hugged Kent, cutting him off. He smelled his hair, his neck. “Hey,” he said. “Don’t apologize. Don’t apologize for that.”

“Okay,” Kent whispered, and he looked at Ransom with the same adoration Ransom would see in thirty minutes when Kent was sitting in the middle of a pile of cats, with the same fondness he would see in an hour and a half when Ransom forced himself to climb higher than Kent and almost snapped a branch off in the process.

_I love you too_, Ransom thought, but he didn’t want to say it.


	6. Chapter 6

Kent woke up the next morning and was bowled over by his own happiness in less than five seconds. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Ransom’s smile. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed hearing Ransom talk about anything, really, and feeling Ransom’s hands on him.

But, apparently, he wasn’t meant to get any of those things today.

**Holster** 8:04 A.M.  
Hey man, just letting you know Rans is taking the day off today. Sorry it’s last minute, he just decided last night. 

**Holster** 8:06 A.M.  
He had a great day with you, he just wants to take a day off so he’s rested up and doesn’t slip back into a rough patch again. He said he’ll see you tomorrow though. Anyway, you know the drill.

**Kent** 8:10 A.M.  
Yep, got it. I’ll see him tomorrow if he’s still up for it.

  


  


  


  


  


  


There was a list of places Kent wasn’t supposed to go when Ransom had a day off. Or, not quite. Holster hadn’t phrased it like that. More like a list of places Ransom might be, but Kent wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle running into Ransom on one of these days and not being able to do anything, so he’d always thought of it as places he couldn’t go. 

The park with the pretty lamp posts, the Mexican restaurant on Oxford, the horseback riding trail on the edge of town, and any of the coffee shops. Holster couldn’t predict which one Ransom would drag them into, never could. 

Kent drove into town. He wasn’t going to look for Ransom, just take a walk through the city’s little downtown. He stopped and browsed through a shoe store, a gardening supply store. 

He was thirsty, so he walked five blocks over to the Daily Grind. 

By the time he’d finished his bagel and coffee, he wasn’t sure what he was even doing. He couldn’t hang out here all day, and it would probably just hurt him to see Ransom and not be able to say anything. 

And, of course, that was exactly the moment Ransom and Holster walked in. “Shit,” Kent mumbled. He wanted to leave, just to avoid the experience of Ransom looking right at him and not recognizing him, but he felt frozen to his chair.

Holster glanced at Kent and raised his eyebrows, almost imperceptibly. Ransom was making a beeline for the counter, decked out head to toe in ugly Samwell gear. He was so fucking cute, god. 

Kent didn’t think about it. He just got in line behind Ransom and stuck his hands in his pockets, in what was probably the dumbest attempt to look casual ever. 

Ransom turned to glance at him, then looked again. “Hey,” he said, and Kent might not have known his smile was all flirting if he didn’t already know Ransom so well. 

Kent smiled, sort of, and looked away. He felt short of breath. He was an idiot.

“Jeez, Rans, wait up.” Holster came up and put his arm around Ransom’s shoulder. “Hey, let’s take our coffee to go, okay? There’s some crazy-adorable stores up ahead we should check out.”

“No, I wanna stay,” Ransom said, glancing at Kent. “I like it here.”

When Kent placed his second order of the day, Sophia just shook her head sadly at him. “Coming right up,” she said. “Oh, honey.”

Kent scrunched his nose up at her and went to wait for his coffee. Holster had guided Ransom to a table on the opposite side of the coffee shop, but Kent still felt shaky, like anything could -- but nothing was going to happen. He could see Ransom tomorrow. 

“Kent, hon, come get your coffee,” Sophia called out, and when Kent turned around with his drink in hand, Ransom had moved to stand near his table, looking at the photos on the wall. Ostensibly. Kent knew better; it was obvious from the nervous shifting of Ransom’s feet and the unfocused gaze of his eyes that he wasn’t really looking at the photos, just waiting for -- Kent?

This wouldn’t be the first time Ransom had hit on him when they were strangers, Kent told himself. It would be okay. 

“Hey,” Ransom said when Kent approached the table. “You a local? My buddy and I are running out of ideas for things to do while it’s still sunny out.”

Kent looked across the room at Holster, but all he got in return was the stink-eye. He was on his own. “Yeah, I mean, sure? There’s a bakery down the street that’s super good, muffins that’ll blow your mind. Or do you want something like --”

“No, that’s perfect,” Ransom said. “So, after the muffins, is there anything to do outside? Or, like, active at all?” 

He was touching the back of the chair next to Kent. Why was he doing that? Oh god, he wanted to sit down. “Uh,” Kent said, “there’s horseback riding? And, um, it’s kind of cold, but maybe canoeing? I don’t know if you want to --”

“Cool.” Ransom paused until Kent actually made eye contact with him. “Hey, is it okay if I sit down for a sec? I wanna write this all down, but I lost my phone. Gotta use a napkin.”

“Okay,” Kent said. His voice sounded faint. He watched Ransom sit down, scoot the chair far closer to Kent than it had been before. “Yeah, I mean, no problem. Today’s kind of windy, but if you want to stay inside, a lot of the stores down this street are cute.”

Ransom tilted his head at Kent, his eyes sparkling all unfairly. “Are they?” he asked, warm and teasing, and Kent missed him so much. “There’s a lot of cute stuff in this town. Hey, what are you doing after --”

Kent looked up. Ransom was leaning closer, but his eyes were unfocused, his posture frozen. “Are you okay?” 

Ransom rubbed a hand across his face. He leaned back, then shook his head and leaned in again. This time Kent saw him inhale through his nose, sniffing at Kent, and Kent’s heart sped up. “Yeah, I’m -- uh -- sorry.” He looked dazed, rubbing at his face again, and Kent could see that he was breathing too fast.

“Hey, it’s okay, man,” Kent said. He put his hand on top of Ransom’s and pressed down gently. “Come on, write this shit down, I’m interesting.”

Ransom flexed his hand under Kent’s, stared intently at his face. Searching for something. “Writing -- yeah. Sorry. I’m being weird, I just…. Do I know you?”

Kent breathed in sharply, and then Holster’s hand was on Ransom’s shoulder. “Bro, your coffee’s ready. They’ve been saying. Do you wanna head out?”

Ransom was still looking at Kent. 

“I --” Kent looked up at Holster. “Sorry, I’m going. See you -- have a good day. Stay warm. Sorry.”

He looked back from the doorway. Ransom wasn’t watching him anymore; he was wrapped up in a hug with Holster. 

Kent _was_ sorry. He was. But as soon as he got out of sight from the coffee shop, he jumped around in what was probably the most heartfelt victory dance in the history of the world.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled to himself, and he seriously didn’t care if people were looking. He couldn’t stop shaking. 

Ransom had recognized him. 

“Oh my god.”

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Ransom had been in a daze since -- earlier. Whatever that was. It felt almost like a dream now, cuddling up with Holster on the couch of their Airbnb and watching the second Mission Impossible movie. 

He couldn’t quite stop himself from thinking about it, though. And Holster must have noticed, because when Ransom finally snapped out of it long enough to notice his surroundings again, the movie was paused. 

“What?” Ransom asked. He hoped he wasn’t being that obvious, but he stretched his legs out in front of him and tried to look chill. “You want more popcorn?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been -- it’s been a weird day.”

Ransom took another deep breath. “Yeah, bro, I’m fine. Why are you taking Tom Cruise away from me?”

Holster laughed, but it sounded off. Everything had been off today, or maybe just everything after the coffee shop. Or maybe that was in Ransom’s imagination. “Sure, okay.” He pressed play.

“I mean --” Ransom’s throat suddenly felt tight. “Something’s wrong. I don’t understand. Do you think something’s wrong?”

“Uh, no?” Holster leaned in and rested his arm on Ransom’s shoulder. “I think we had a good day. What’s this about?”

“I didn’t have a good day,” Ransom said. He didn’t know it was true until he said it. “Things aren’t right.”

“Rans, you’re just tired --”

“Things aren’t _right_,” Ransom said again, and he slapped away the tears that had arrived out of nowhere. He was shaking. “What the fuck, Holster, what’s going on?”

Holster stared down at the couch. “Rans, you wanted the day off.”

“Holtzy.” Ransom didn’t know where all these tears were coming from. It was scary; he tried to pay attention to his breathing; he kept crying. It was scary. “Please.”

Holster slid off the couch and moved to kneel in front of him. “Hey, hey,” he said, reaching out to hold Ransom’s hands as tight as he could. “It’s okay. You’re right, Rans, you’re not crazy, it’s been a weird day. I’ll tell you, but it’s sad and it’s not going to make you feel better. Do you want me to tell you?”

“What, are we in the Matrix or something?” Ransom mumbled. He wiped some snot off his face. “Yeah, just say it. Please.”

Holster grabbed Ransom’s wrist, holding on like an anchor. “You’re like that girl in 50 First Dates, Rans. You have anterograde amnesia, so you haven’t been able to access your short-term memories after a day goes by for the past two-and-a-half years. This is our house, we live here. Normally you can still have a pretty normal life, but once in awhile you ask for a day off, so that’s what today was. I don’t usually lie to you about it, I swear.”

Ransom closed his eyes. He breathed in, held it, breathed out, over and over and over. “Say that again. Please.”

“Uh.” Holster looked like he was trying not to panic either. “You’ve had amnesia for two and a half years. You take notes to help yourself and I’m here to help you too, and we live here in Little Haven. Normally you just live your life, and it’s okay, but every once in awhile you want a day off so you don’t have to go through hearing about what happened to you. That was supposed to be today, so I’m sorry I’m ruining it by telling you.” 

“You’re not ruining anything,” Ransom said faintly, and then he lay down on the floor and hyperventilated for awhile. 

He was ready to think again pretty soon after, and he shrugged off Holster’s hands from where they’d been gripping his ankles in a show of solidarity or whatever. “Thanks, dude. Uh. Is that why I thought I knew that guy earlier? Because I do know him?”

Holster laughed, short and not even a little believable. “Yeah, you could say that. That’s Kent. You’ve been dating.”

Ransom didn’t feel like that was big enough to explain what happened. “I -- I felt it, though. That I knew him. Does that happen? Am I getting better?”

“That’s never happened, Rans. I don’t know how it happened, or, like, what happened. But, yeah, he’s your boyfriend. I like him.”

“Oh.” Ransom remembered his -- Kent, his name was Kent; holy shit, that was his _boyfriend_ \-- he remembered Kent’s face, how hopeful and scared he had been. “I need to call him, right? That must have been a lot for him to deal with. What happened today.”

“It’s okay, bud, I called him. He’s fine. You have a date planned with him tomorrow, you’ll see him then.” Holster helped Ransom back onto the couch. “Sorry, this sucks. You were supposed to have a day off, you weren’t supposed to worry about any of this shit. I’m guessing we’re done with Tom Cruise for the night, huh?”

Ransom sprawled out across Holster’s huge, weird torso. “Yeah. I have to have an existential crisis now. Consider the movie rescheduled.”

“Mm.”

Ransom stared at the ceiling. “God, I wish I had my -- hey. Give me my phone. I didn’t lose it, right? You have it?” 

Holster laughed, sheepish. “You got me. Sorry, bro, just part of the having a day off thing. I’ll go get it.” 

A minute later, Ransom was holding a phone he’d never seen before -- he knew the trend was for screens to get larger and larger, but Jesus -- and had his feet resting on Holster’s leg. “So my notes are just in here?” he asked. “Never mind, I’ll find them.”

He felt better now, weirdly enough. It was nice to have research to do, information to take in. There were so many files, bullet point lists, spreadsheets, photographs. 

It would take ages to read everything. Ransom only had a few hours. 

But instead of reading, he pulled up his wake-up message for the next day and started writing.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Kent woke up. His phone was ringing. He answered it before he even fully processed the fact that someone was calling. 

“Hello?” he rasped, and blinked at his curtains. He couldn’t tell how much light was peeking through behind them, but it looked like not much.

“Kent?” It was Ransom. 

And Kent almost fell out of bed. “Rans? Hey, babe -- shit, I mean, hey! What’s up? It’s early. Are you doing okay?”

Ransom laughed. _He laughed!_ Kent thought, giddy in a way that felt unstable at this time of day. “I’m doing okay. I got up earlier than normal because I wanted to call you, but I still needed time to process. But I can talk now. So you know how we saw each other yesterday?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kent had pretty much gone through every emotion that humans had invented by the time the day was over, but Holster had called later to let him know that things were okay. “Holster told you about that?”

“No, he told me what was going on yesterday. I was upset, and the whole ‘day off’ thing wasn’t working. So he told me the basics.” Ransom paused, and Kent waited. He sounded like he had an agenda, or at least a plan, for this conversation. “And -- I realized that I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve been, like, holding back? Even when I didn’t consciously think I was. And that’s changing now.”

Kent pressed the phone closer to his ear. “It is?” 

“Yeah. I was holding back, like, I think because I was scared of what would happen if I saw you one day, like, what would happen ifI tried my best to make it work, but I still felt nothing? And I didn’t want to hurt you, but even more than that, I didn’t want to hurt myself with that kind of disappointment. But I’m realizing that’s not really the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

Ransom’s breath was so close, so immediate, through the phone, Kent could close his eyes and almost pretend they were together. “The point is that you’re the person I’m going to be with, Kent. I was reading about it, I was talking to Holtzy -- we’ve had so many good days, just falling in together and not thinking about it. I saw you yesterday and I knew you were important to me even though I didn’t know why. Like, if I can connect with you like that without any memories to back me up, then I can stand by you on days when it’s hard to feel that connection. Right?”

“Right,” Kent said, and he couldn’t stop the tears that immediately sprung to his eyes. It was just really hard to be chill when Ransom was -- this. “Yeah. I agree.”

“I love you,” Ransom said. Confident and warm and sounding like he knew exactly what it was doing to Kent. “Let the record show that it’s seven A.M. and I love you. This is going to work, Kent. I’m not going to run hot and cold on you anymore. I know what the future is, even though I won’t be able to watch it happen, you know? I’m going to love you.”

Kent smiled. “Sounds like a plan, Rans. When do you wanna do that? Tonight at seven?”

Ransom laughed, quiet in Kent’s ear. “I was thinking more like five-thirty. Or, like, as soon as you can physically get here after work. How’s that sound?”

He wished every day was the weekend. He wished he could stretch his legs out under the covers and feel Ransom next to him, that Ransom could be with him all the time, noticing whenever Kent was looking hot, hugging him whenever either of them needed it, talking through the plans he had for his life and letting Kent listen. 

“You know I’ll be there,” he said.

“Yeah.” He could hear Ransom’s smile through the phone. “Guess I do.”

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


“Damn,” Ransom said when he opened the door, only he stretched it out so long Kent felt his face flush. “You look better in person, somehow. Have I told you that before?”

“Here and there.” Kent stayed where he was; he could read the situation well enough to know that Ransom was about to kiss him. 

And -- Ransom leaned down. He kissed Kent, starting as just a warm peck, but when Kent let his hand float up to grab onto Ransom’s shirt, Ransom took that as his cue to deepen it, to explore a little. Kent was glad he’d stayed where he was. Being up on the threshold gave Ransom another inch or two over Kent, and by the time they were done Kent’s rapid breathing was absolutely, definitely noticeable. 

“Hi,” he stammered out. It was a nice attempt, anyway.

Ransom looked a little foggy, licking his lips until he snapped out of it. “Hi. Wow. You’re -- wanna come in? Hey, I can show you something cool.”

Kent came in, shutting the door behind him. He noticed that Holster’s shoes weren’t in their place by the door. He noticed that Holster’s car keys weren’t hanging up. “Yeah?”

“I learned a new song. Like, actually new. Holster said I’ve never played it before. It’s not, like, hard, but it’s cool! Do you wanna hear it?”

There was already a little chair pulled up alongside the piano bench. That was so cute, Ransom had set up. Kent tried to keep cool. “Hell yeah, I wanna hear it. Ready when you are.”

In reality, the new song turned out to be the YMCA song. Kent laughed when he recognized it, and Ransom laughed with him, but really, Kent had to be impressed at the fact that Ransom could play it with no mistakes, that he could play it with both hands, and that he could perform it with a little bit of showiness, bobbing his head like it was a rock song.

Kent did the arm movements for the last chorus, and Ransom snickered at him. “Dude, I love you,” Ransom said, and it just felt normal.

They ordered in, eating pizza on the floor in front of the TV. Ransom let Kent pick the show, and they talked through four episodes of That 70s Show in a row before they actually finished the pizza. 

“I feel, like, super good about life,” Ransom was saying. “I mean, I know it’s easy to say that now, when I’m eating fucking delicious pizza and hanging out with, like, the most gorgeous and awesome person in the world, but it’s kind of crazy that I feel this way, you know? But it’s been like this pretty much since I woke up. Like, almost.”

“You’re having a really good day,” Kent said, smiling. 

“I can’t explain it, but it felt like such a huge burden off my shoulders when I read that you’d been important, like, emotionally? Yesterday, I mean. When I saw you. I read about that, and even though I had no memories of feeling worried about my future, or about where our relationship was going, I think it’s like I’ve had those worries so many times that I’m still connected to them? That’s pretty much what my doctor says, like that if I create the same pathways in my short-term memory over and over and over, it becomes kind of second-nature to go there, even if I don’t remember doing it before.” 

“Yeah,” Kent said. “Makes sense.” He wanted to touch Ransom so bad, but he didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought either.

Ransom wiped the grease off his fingers with a napkin. He kept his eyes down, like the napkin thing was really that important, but Kent knew he was just getting emotional. “So, like, finally getting real-life proof that I have this huge emotional response to you even on a day where I had no idea who you are was, like, huge. I feel like I can breathe again, even though I don’t even remember being stressed about it in the first place. So anyway, I love you, I have zero fears about where this is going, do you think we should have a secret handshake?”

Kent paused the show. It wasn’t like they were watching it, anyway, but it was still nice to lose the background noise. “Rans. I’m gonna cry, that’s so fucking awesome. I know that doesn’t mean you won’t have tough days again, like, in the future, so let’s not even hold you to that, but damn. That’s so awesome. I love you too, so much. And I’m not scared anymore, either.”

“And?”

“And let’s make a secret handshake.” 

Ransom took Kent upstairs to his bedroom, and they mapped out a ridiculously complicated handshake, with dance moves Kent couldn’t pull off, sections that were so cutesy it was embarrassing, and enough aerobic movement that they were both out of breath after practicing for ten minutes. 

“Okay, we gotta do this every day. Like, twenty times a day. You can teach it to me from the beginning every single day, and then one day I’ll be able to do it perfectly on the first try and you’ll shit your pants.”

Kent tried not to imagine it, because it was too perfect. “Yeah, if that happens, I think you’ll shit your pants more. Like, think about it.”

“_When_ that happens,” Ransom teased. “Hey, how about some music? Oh, what’s this?” He did something on his phone, and then that song about how you can’t help falling in love with someone started playing from Ransom’s speaker. 

“Yeah?” Kent didn’t know what was going on, but he felt like he was going to hurt his face from smiling so much. “You got this one all queued up?”

Ransom shrugged, so fake-nonchalant that Kent snorted a little. “This one and a hundred others like it. I was reading my files on our relationship for, like, a million years, and I don’t think we’ve ever danced.”

Kent’s wanted to say something, but he had no words. He just looked at Ransom instead, reaching out to slot their fingers together.. 

“So.” Ransom pulled Kent closer. “Come sway awkwardly with me, babe. I’ll teach you some better moves later.”

Kent laughed, but when Ransom’s arms came together around his waist, when Ransom pulled him even closer than before and pressed his nose into Kent’s hair, there was nothing funny about it. 

“I love you,” Ransom whispered. Kent’s legs felt weak, but it was a weakness that was exciting. 

“Rans,” he said. He drifted forward, let his mouth trace against Ransom’s throat, his collarbone. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The room was spinning. Ransom turned off the music, muting Norah Jones or Adele or whoever had just been there. Kent couldn’t remember. “Stay,” Ransom whispered, his hands so gentle Kent could barely feel them through his shirt.

“Touch me,” Kent said back, and he wasn’t prepared for how tenderly Ransom held his face, wasn’t prepared for the way Ransom looked at him, everything naked and raw, as he eased Kent down onto the bed.

Ransom’s eyes got heavy when Kent reached under his shirt and stroked his stomach, and his eyes got hungry when he helped Kent out of his clothes. “Hey, hey, I got you,” he said into Kent’s chest, and Kent closed his eyes.

“I’ve got you, too,” he whispered. He forgot what else he said. All that mattered was what they gave each other, where they touched each other, the way their bodies still ached and trembled toward each other when they were done. “I’ve got you,” Kent said, tracing a line of sweat across Ransom’s forehead.

The room felt too small for them, or maybe Kent’s feelings were too big. “Stay,” Ransom said again, and Kent inched closer to him under the covers, pressed his body against Ransom’s and felt Ransom’s arm tucked against his waist. “Kent,” Ransom said. “Kent.”

Kent was drifting off. It was easy, when he felt this way. “Huh?” He opened his eyes.

Ransom was looking at Kent, looking at him like he was trying to memorize his face. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and he was still looking when Kent drifted off to sleep.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


* * * * * *

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Sunlight crept over his eyelids. Ransom turned his face away, but he could tell he was waking up. 

It was okay, though. It was nice. Every muscle in his body felt relaxed, loose, and strong, like all the residual aches and pains from his short stint in the AHL had miraculously disappeared overnight. 

He stretched out and became aware of a firm, expensive-feeling mattress underneath him, a luxurious silk pillowcase against his face, satin sheets bunched up around him, and -- a man’s foot?

Ransom’s eyes flew open. There was definitely a man in his bed. Well, maybe it was Ransom who was in this man’s bed. He didn’t recognize the room, and he wouldn't have the guts to spend his money on this kind of stuff anyway.

Huh. He didn’t recognize the room. He probably should have been more freaked out about that than he was, but he was in a good mood or something. It seemed okay, kind of normal, to be here.

And, more importantly, the man in his bed. Like, holy shit. This was going down as one of the saddest stories Ransom would ever have to tell his friends, because fuck, how could he hook up with a man that gorgeous and drink so much he couldn’t remember a second of it? Or, like, maybe they didn’t hook up at all, but Ransom knew they had. He just -- knew it. Even if he couldn’t remember it, he looked at this dude and knew they’d had sex.

Maybe, if Ransom was lucky, he could get a repeat of that before he left. And, like, this guy’s number. And a wedding proposal. Because shit, he wasn’t just hot. He was, like, achingly beautiful. Literally aching, like Ransom felt that shit in his chest when he looked at the man’s face, relaxed and sweet with sleep. His blond hair was all tousled and crazy at the front, and his body was curled toward Ransom’s. 

So, like, Ransom was staring. He probably should stop. He flipped over to face the other way, and that was when he noticed the framed photo sitting on the nightstand next to his side of the bed.

Ransom sat up. “What?” he said, or maybe he just thought it. He felt like his brain was sliding into another dimension or something. 

It was a picture of Ransom and the man sleeping next to him. They were on a beach, the ocean rolling out dark blue behind them, wearing matching windbreakers. It must have been windy that day, because the man’s blond hair was messy, caught in motion, and he was standing close to Ransom -- angled toward him, leaning against him -- and smiling up at Ransom like he was the best thing in the world.

In the picture, Ransom was looking down at him with the exact same expression on his face.

_What the fuck,_ Ransom thought, partly at the existence of this photograph and partly at the way his heart was getting all warm instead of freaking out.

He put the photo back down on the nightstand and wiggled up to a sitting position. Now that he was waking up more, he was realizing that his vision was blurry not because of being tired, but just -- because? There were some sexy black-framed glasses sitting out on the nightstand next to the picture, and they kind of looked like Ransom’s, so he put them on. 

Immediately, his vision was perfect. Cool. Maybe these actually were his glasses, and he just didn’t recognize them for some reason. 

But sitting up, actually looking around the room for real, Ransom stopped breathing for a second. He took his glasses off and put them back on again. He lightly smacked himself on the side of the head to see if that would change anything.

Nope. There were still photos hanging up around the room of Ransom and this blond man hanging out with Holster, spending time with Ransom’s family, even with some of Ransom’s old AHL buddies. There were other pictures, pictures of Ransom and the blond man with people Ransom didn’t recognize at all, but he couldn’t stop looking at the photo right across from him. The one with Ransom, this man, Ransom’s mom and dad, and Ransom’s sister.

They looked so happy. They looked so real. Was this real?

Ransom brought his knees up and pressed his face against them, through the covers. He rubbed his nose against the satin sheets, moved his lips against the fabric, counted as high as he could through his inhales, his exhales, and the space in between before starting again.

He was okay. This was a dream. A beautiful, strange dream. Or it was real. And that was fine, too. Maybe. He just needed to understand. He needed a spreadsheet or something. 

When Ransom sat up again, he looked back at the photo on the nightstand. Holy shit. Definitely not a dream. He didn’t --

There was a laminated piece of paper lying next to the framed photo. Ransom hadn’t noticed it before because he was kind of busy experiencing total cognitive failure, but as soon as he picked it up he saw that it was Holster’s handwriting. 

_Don’t worry bro you got a traumatic brain injury and forgot some shit but it’s fine._

_\-- Holtzy _

_P.S. I’m learning to cross-stitch so I can make this message more decorative for you. Please be patient._

Ransom felt his breath hitching again, so he turned over and stared at the man sleeping in his bed. Their bed? Well, definitely Ransom’s bed. He wouldn’t have pictures of his family in here if it wasn’t his room.

Their bed. There were just as many pictures of the other man decorating the walls. Plus, Ransom felt this weird sense of peace, or, like, home, when he looked over at him. So -- their bed. Did this mean they were, like, married? Or just --

Ransom almost fell over. He was married. He reached out toward the nightstand without really thinking about what he was doing, and then he almost fell out of bed for real when he stretched his arm down so low that he couldn’t really reach while still lying down.

Oh. He was trying to open the cabinet doors on the nightstand. He scooted halfway out of bed, just his legs staying warm under the covers while the rest of his body hung out, and he opened the cabinet.

There was an antique-looking teapot in the cabinet. There were other things, too, but Ransom’s eyes didn’t go to those things. Just the teapot.

He opened the teapot.

There was a small, brown envelope inside. Something was written on it, but Ransom didn’t stop to read it. He needed to get his wedding ring first.

When Ransom opened the envelope, he didn't find anything that surprised him, just a simple gold ring. He slipped it on his finger, then turned over the envelope to read the back. _Good morning!_ it read, in a handwriting that Ransom couldn’t quite identify, even if it looked familiar. There was a little heart scribbled in next to the words.

“Good morning,” Ransom said out loud. His pulse was still going too fast, but things were okay. He was okay. “Good morning,” he said again, and he gently shook the other man’s shoulder until he was awake.

“Hey,” the man said, reaching up and smoothing out the front of Ransom’s shirt. He was still so sleepy that his eyes wouldn’t open all the way. “You’re up. Good morning.”

Ransom felt his shoulders relax. He didn’t know why, at least not exactly, but of all the lives to fall into, he felt weirdly comfortable in this one. 

The other man was drifting off to sleep again. Ransom poked his nose over and over until --

“Rans,” the man said, laughing and trying to look grumpy at the same time. “Stop it.” He swatted Ransom’s hand away. When their hands caught in the air, Ransom knew the man could feel Ransom’s wedding band against his skin, but the man didn’t say anything about it. Just looked up at Ransom again and fucking glowed. Like -- holy shit. Glowed.

“Yeah.” Ransom cleared his throat. “Hey. I’mma need a name.”

“Kent,” he said, and the name felt like a door opening, letting sunshine into some secret part of Ransom’s heart that he hadn’t even known was dark.

He didn’t know how to say that out loud, or if he should. “Kent what?” he pressed, once he trusted his voice again.

Kent twined their fingers together. “Oluransi.”

“Holy fuck, that’s awesome,” Ransom whispered, barely realizing what he was saying, and he didn’t even mind when his husband fell asleep on him again. 

And, well. He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading & coming along on this one! 
> 
> i ship kent with practically everyone, but this ship is elite. let me know what you think!!


End file.
